Talks, Thoughts & Other OneShots
by LoraLee2
Summary: A collection of oneshots, a little bit of everything, humor, angst, romance, drama.
1. Care

CARE

After seeing everything we see, all the different ways people find to hurt each other, it changes you, it changes something deep inside. Traditional mores fall to the wayside, right and wrong, sin and virtue, even legal and illegal; after a time the only question that matter is does anybody get hurt? Is there a victim?

Every day I look at dead people; photos, bodies. I see families ripped apart, lives destroyed. I see the depths of suffering. One day a young woman is walking home from school, that night she's in the E.R. being violated again by the doctor who has to collect the rape kit. I see the murder victims, beaten, shot, slashed throat, strangled. I can tell you so many ways one human can hurt, kill, another.

So, how can I look at them and then worry about some kid spray painting a subway car? He's committing vandalism, I could arrest him, but I can't bring myself to give a damn about a subway train.

All I think when I see that kid is, is he loved? Is somebody waiting at home for him, ready to scold him for coming late? Or is he out here because there's nothing at home for him?

I start to profile him. It's instinct. I do it all day every day. I can't turn it off anymore. He's about fifteen, much too young to be out here on his own. He's wearing tattered clothes, torn sneakers, ripped jeans, faded black hoodie with a torn pocket. He's dirty, he probably hasn't bathed in weeks, he's scrawny so the showers in the shelters would hold danger.

I wonder when his last meal was? Did he search through restaurant dumpsters looking for scraps? Did he know yet what time the best scraps were thrown out? These kids learned that kind of thing real fast out here. Too fast. Had he sold himself for enough money for a burger yet?

Was he a throwaway or a runaway? What was so wrong at home that he wound up here? Would he go back? Would he wind up in the system; foster care, prison?

I approach the train, in the back of my mind I think about the different ways a can of spray paint can be used as a weapon. Spray it in the eyes and it's very affective Mace, while a simple lighter will turn it into a flamethrower, and of course, there's always the rather crude method of using it to strengthen a punch or just plain throwing it.

He doesn't see me coming up behind him. I prepare myself for any reaction; will he try to run, will he attack? It doesn't matter, I can handle it. I stop when I'm a few feet behind him. I clear my throat, he whirls, freezes.

"Nice painting. My name's Emily, you hungry?"


	2. That Time of Year

THAT TIME OF YEAR

Reid looked up as Hotch entered the bullpen, he was carrying a plastic file box. 'Oh, yeah,' he thought, 'it was that time again.'

Hotch deposited the box on his desk, "Usual deal?"

"Nine cups."

Reid tucked the box beside his desk and went back to his paperwork.

A short time later Gideon came through the door also carrying a file box, He brought it to Reid, "Nine cups?"

"Monday morning, unless we get a call."

"Thanks, I appreciate it."

He tucked this box next to Hotch's and waited, Garcia should be next. He'd no sooner finished the thought when she came bustling through the door carrying a hot pink file box with purple daisies all over it. He smiled at the sight.

"Mornin', Angelface, same as last year?"

His smiled, "You got it," earned him a kiss on the forehead before Garcia hurried back to her babies.

He placed Garcia's box on the floor in front of his desk as he wondered who would be next, JJ or Morgan?

He was just proofreading the first of the day's reports when he heard the quick tapping of heels coming towards his desk. He fought of the foolish grin that tried to invade his face every time he thought of JJ and looked up as she stopped in front of his desk. Her file box was a powder blue, he'd always liked it, "Spence, would you mind --?"

He cut her off with a smile, "Of course," he'd do hers for nothing, if only she'd let him, but their one date had left him the knowledge that he'd never be more to her than a friend, so he took her file box and three more work folders, and simply said, "Nine."

She ruffled his hair and said, "Number one tomorrow."

He smiled as she left, he loved it when she did that. He silently chastised himself as he watched her walk away, he really shouldn't do that.

He jumped when Morgan said, "Someday she's gonna turn arround, Bud."

Reid immediately went on the attack, sometimes with Morgan it was the only way, "_**You**_ haven't paid up from last year yet."

Morgan held a double cupholder, there was a coffee in one side and a small white bag in the other. In his other arm, he held a paper grocery sack.

"What happened to the file box I gave you last year?"

"Clooney ate it." Morgan swung the coffee in front of Reid.

"That's only one, you owe me two."

"Come on, the donut's blueberry glazed." Reid just looked at him, giving him his best imitation of a glare, "with sprinkles."

Reid thought about it, he picked up one of the files JJ had just brought him and held it out to Morgan. Morgan looked at the file in Reid's hand and the bag in his. No-brainer. He put the coffee and grocery bag on Reid's desk and took the folder. "Thanks, Man."

As Morgan took the file to his own desk, Reid thought, 'should've given him two files.'

Reid looked up again as Emily approached her desk across from him, she was empty-handed. Must be nobody'd told her yet.

She slowed as she saw approached Morgan and Reid, "What's with all the boxes; did one of the file cabinets have a litter?"

"Hey, Emily," Morgan started talking before Reid could explain, "On of the perks of working with a man with a Ph.D. in advanced mathmatics, our resident genius here happens to be one of probably five people on the planet who can actually read and understand the entire U.S. Tax Code. He does all our taxes every year."

"Really? How much?"

Reid thought she sounded much more excited than the situation warranted, but responded, "Nine cups of Starbucks coffee spread out over the year. Bring your W-2 and all your receipts in tomorrow, I should have them done Monday."


	3. The Microwave

Disclaimer: Usual disclaimers, I do not own any CM characters, I'm just borrowing them and will return them in the same condition as I found them.

Storyline Rules: There will be het smut, there may be violence, mention of drugs and sex crimes -- this is Criminal Minds. There may be mild sideline slash, but it will not involve any CM characters. All CM characters will remain true to character as I see them. All pairings will be introduced as they could naturally occur. This may be fantasy, but I will try my best to make sure anything presented as fact is accurate.

THE MICROWAVE

The team opened the door and walked into the break room at the station, just one of hundreds of rooms, in one of hundreds of stations, there was nothing unusual about the room. Tables, chairs, refrigerator, all the normal items in a workplace lunchroom. A microwave, sitting innocently on the counter, light on, turntable spinning, as it happily counted down towards zero.

Suddenly Reid broke rank, turning, pushing Morgan and Hotch to the sides, running back the way they had come. He races across the bullpen towards the men's room. Desperately hoping he would make it, praying he wouldn't humiliate himself by vomiting in the middle of the room in front of a dozen officers. Knowing that his mad dash would never go unnoticed, not here, not in the middle of a police station.

The team watched as Reid broke through the door on the other side of the room. Hotch breathed a small sigh of relief, he'd made it. JJ turned to glare at the microwave, gleefully spinning and counting, completely unaware of its silent act of torture. Unconcerned with the effects its actions had on one young man. It was only doing its job.

Unfortunately today its job was cooking fishsticks.


	4. The Tickets

Disclaimer: Usual disclaimers, I do not own any CM characters, I'm just borrowing them and will return them in the same condition as I found them.

AN: Spoilers for Plain Sight.

All dialoge in the first and third section are directly from the episode as aired, the thoughts are mine. The second section is all mine. Thank you.

THE TICKETS

Reid walks over to where Gideon is standing watching a television monitor while keeping an eye on the small birthday partythe others had planned for Reid

Gideon asks, "You having fun?"

Reid replies, "Yes, definitely. I'm definitely having fun."

"Make a wish?"

Reid looks up at the birthday hat that someone had plopped on his head, "Can I take this hat off?"

Gideon shakes his head and responds, "I wouldn't."

JJ calls out, "Hey, Spence, first piece for the birthday boy."

Reid starts back to his desk and the group waiting there, but turns back to Gideon, "Do you know she's the only person in the whole world who calls me 'Spence'?" Reid chuckles and leaves, Gideon's looks back to the television monitor, but his brain whirs. He's just heading to his office when Hotch announces "Party's over."

&&&&&&

After the briefing Gideon slipped into his office, ostensibly to get a few things from his desk, but he had another goal altogether in mind. He sat at his desk and picked up his phone and dialed from memory. "Hey, Joe, this is Jason Gideon. I need you to get some tickets for me."

"Sure, Jason. Any concert in particular or just whatever I can find?" Through the years Gideon had found the ticket agent to be an invaluable friend. With the type of schedules the BAU kept, it was practically impossible to stand in lines for tickets for concerts that he may be called out of town for and never see. Joe could find tickets for just about any event not only in the DC area, but also had contacts throughout the US and could get tickets to almost any venue imaginable.

"Actually I need two tickets to the next Redskins game. Get me the best seats you can?"

"Your wish is my command. Should I have them couriered over to your office?"

"Actually, I'm on my way out of town. Could you overnight them to me at," Gideon opened the file in front of him and gave Joe the address to the police station in San Diego. "I may be a little pressed for time, is there any chance you can get them gift-wrapped for me?"

"For my best customer? Anything."

&&&&&&

Gideon looked at the young man sitting across the chess board from him, the time feels right, he pretends to suddenly thing of something and reaches towards his bag, "Oh, I almost forgot. I have something for you."

Reid seems mildly curious, "Oh, yeah?"

"Forgot to give it to you at the party." Gideon takes out the gift-wrapped package that had been delivered to the San Diego police station for him. Watches as Reid looks at the box. Surprised.

"But you don't give birthday presents."

Gideon just smiles.

Reid opens the box and looks at the tickets inside. He looks pleased. "Wow. The Red -- Skins."

Gideon tells him, "It's a VIP box."

"Wow. Thank you so much."

Gideon can tell Reid doesn't quite get something, maybe he dislikes football? He probes. "Ever been to a pro football game?"

"No, I honestly didn't even know this was football."

So, that was the confusion, that was okay, "You're gonna love it."

"We are. You're coming with me, right?" Reid liked the idea, this was something coworkers, friends, did. Go to sporting events. He enjoyed new experiences, but he hadn't realized Gideon was even into football, he talked about baseball frequently, but never football.

Gideon shook his head slightly, "No. Someone else on the plane is a huge 'Skins fan."

Reid's confused, why would Gideon give him tickets and then … want him to go with someone else?

"Who?

"Only person in the world who calls you 'Spence'."

Realization dawned on him, "JJ?"

"She's a huge Redskins fan."

Reid turns and looks at JJ sitting at the back of the plane. "Wh-what should I say?" As soom as he asks, he realizes he needs to do this on his own. Gideon had provided the opoortunity, but he needed to take the next step. He puts the tickets in his shirt pocket as starts to get up. He pauses, looks at the chess board between him and his mentor, and makes his move, "Checkmate."

Gideon frowns slightly, he hadn't even seen that coming, then he smiles and chuckles as he watches his young friend pluck up his courage and make his way to the back of the plane for a much more important move. No matter what happened, things would never be wuite the same again.


	5. First Fight

Disclaimer: Usual disclaimers, I do not own any CM characters, I'm just borrowing them and will return them in the same condition as I found them.

FIRST FIGHT

Hotch and Gideon, stood at the top of the stairs watching as Reid followed JJ into the round table room. JJ had the day's case files in her arms, and was walking quickly but Reid, of course, had no trouble keeping up. Gideon murmurred to Hotch, "Looks like the lovebirds are having their first fight."

"They're starting to attract attention. He's been following her around all morning."

"Oh, leave them alone, nobody seems upset by it, just curious."

Hotch chuckled, "Yeah, I'm kind of curious myself to know what he did to set her off like this."

"Me, too. I wonder how long it'll be before she gives in and tells him?"

"If she's anything like Haley, it could be weeks."

The blinds to the round table room were open, so the two men had a clear view of what was happening in the room, although they couldn't hear what was being said. JJ was throwing folders on the table while Reid was waving his hands frantically talking to her back. Every time he moved to face her, she turned away. JJ finished setting up for the morning meeting and started to leave the room.

Reid followed her and Hotch and Gideon heard Reid shouting, "Will you please just tell me what I did wrong?"

"You're the genius, figure it out."

"I've been trying to figure it out all morning." The two were now moving across the room towards Hotch and Gideon. "I can't fix it, if I don't know what the problem is."

"Who said you have to fix it. Just don't do it again."

They had reached the bottom of the stairs when Reid suddenly whipped his arm out and grabbed JJ by the shoulder, spinning her around. Hotch started to move forward but Gideon stayed him with a raised hand.

"I'm breaking this up, Jason, they're starting to get physical."

"Just give them a couple more minutes. You know Reid isn't going to hurt her."

Hotch mumbled back, "I'm not sure it's JJ I'm worried about getting hurt. If he grabs her again, she's gonna clock him."

"Do what?!" Reid had given up trying to keep his voice down. He didn't know if he'd ever been this mad before and the worst part was he didn't even know what he was fighting about. "JJ, talk to me."

"I don't want to talk. Now, get your hand off me."

"Fine." He threw both hands in the air. "Forget talking," Hotch and Gideon were almost quick enough to realize what he was going to do. JJ started back towards the stairs, when Reid grabbed her by the shoulders and pulled her into a hard kiss. JJ was startled enough not to react for a moment, but when she did, it certainly wasn't the reaction Reid had been looking for.

Twenty years of playing soccer, twenty years, one knee came up high and hard and one genius hit the floor. JJ calmly strode up the stairs, handed Hotch and Gideon their folders, and calmly announced, "the briefing room's set up whenever you're ready, I'll be in my office."

JJ turned from the two stunned men and headed back down the stairs. She didn't even look down as Reid rolled out of her way in an effort not to be stepped on.

By the time Gideon made his way down the stairs Reid had raised himself into a leaning position against the wall. Gideon squatted down in front of him, "You okay?"

"Not really."

"You need to go to medical?"

"No. I -- just give me a couple minutes. I'll be fine."

Reid looked up as a shadow fell across the floor in front of him, Morgan. "Go away."

Morgan too, squatted in front of Reid. "You know that was probably the most boneheaded thing you could have done."

"Yeah, I figured that out. Think she'll forgive me any time soon?"

Gideon barely managed to keep that laughter out of his voice, Reid was rolling around on the floor in agony and already worried about JJ forgiving him, "Probably about the same time as she forgives you for whatever you did in the first place."

"But I don't have a clue what I did. How can I make her forgive me, if I can't fix it?"

"Spencer, trust me, sometimes you don't have to fix it, you just have to wait it out. She'll tell you eventually."

Morgan hooked a hand under Reid's arm, up helped him to a vertical position, more or less anyway. "I just want to know one thing."

"What?"

"What the hell possessed you to do something that stupid."

"It always works in books."

Morgan laughed, "Didn't anyone ever tell you --"

Gideon finished for him, "-- don't believe everything you read?"


	6. The Reason

Disclaimer: Usual disclaimers, I do not own any CM characters, I'm just borrowing them and will return them in the same condition as I found them.

A.N. - Sequel to The Fight.

THE REASON

Hotch approached JJ's closed door cautiously; yes, he was an FBI agent, and yes, he'd faced down men with guns trained on him, but no man wanted to corner a pissed-off woman on her own turf. He tapped on her door in warning, and entered without waiting for a response.

JJ looked up from a file she was writing in, "I didn't say 'come in.'"

"I know."

"Oh, Hotch. I --." She paused, most of the time he treated everybody on the team as an equal, but technically he was her supervisor, and you did not kick your boss out of your office.

"You two put on quite a show. You wanna tell me what it was all about?"

JJ knew it wasn't really a request, but she tried anyway, "It's personal."

Hotch snorted, JJ looked at him, "Yeah, I'd say that what you did to Reid qualifies as very personal. Spill anyway."

"Hotch --" she just looked down at her desk shook her head.

"I know you don't want to talk to me about this, but you have to give me a reason to not write you up."

JJ gasped, "Write me up?"

"Both of you. Reid crossed the line the minute he grabbed you. But you crossed one, too, when you retaliated out of proportion. You could have slapped him, you could have punched him, hell you could have kicked him in the shin and I would have called it defense. And I will write him if up if that's what you want. He was definitely out of line. Technically, I should be writing him for violence and sexual misconduct. If I do, I'll have to write you up for the knee, of course you'll get off because of mitigating circumstances, including the fact that Gideon or I could have put a stop to it when he was following you around the office."

"Why didn't you?" Not accusing, just curious.

"It's your first fight, we didn't want to interfere. It's better for your relationship if you can work it out yourselves. You and I both know Reid's not experienced with arguments, or with dealing with women on a one-to-one basis. You weren't actually bothering anyone; amusing them, yes, but not bothering them. And we certainly didn't expect Reid to do something that stupid."

Hotch leaned forward, putting his forearms against JJ's desk, "Talk to me. Let me help."

&&&&&&

Morgan and Reid were back at their desks, "So, what did you do to piss her off like that?"

"Morgan, if I knew that, I wouldn't be sitting here waiting to die."

"Okay, let's walk through this. You spent the night together?"

Reid nodded. They'd spent almost every night together for that last six weeks.

"How was she last night?"

"Fine, we watched a movie, went to bed."

"You, um, do anything between the movie and sleep?"

Morgan managed not to laugh as Reid lit up like a stop sign. Boy still wasn't used to the fact that he was having sex, forget about the fact that other people knew he was having sex. "Yeah."

"Anything unusual there? You didn't try anything new or weird or kinky?"

Reid turned his chair away, "I'm starting to think letting you try to help me was a mistake."

"Reid, we're just going step by step. I'm not asking for details, you don't have to tell me what you did, but I'm trying to help you figure it out. When you fell asleep was she mad at you?"

"No, we snuggled, had a little pillow talk, went to sleep."

"Okay, so that means it's something you did this morning.

"I know that. But I still can't figure out what I did."

"You went to sleep last night, everything was fine. When you woke up this morning, what did you do?" Another blush from Reid.

"Okay, that answers that. Again, anything you haven't done before?"

Reid mumbled something Morgan couldn't make out, but assumed was an affirmative. "Okay, I'll take that as a yes. When you got out of bed was she acting mad?"

"No. She got up and got in the shower, and I went to the kitchen and made coffee and toast."

"So, when she got out of the shower what happened?"

"Then I took my shower. Then we came to work."

"Okay, after you got out of the shower, how was she?"

"Mad. That's when she got mad." He huffed, "How am I supposed to figure out what I did if I wasn't even in the room? How the hell could I make her mad by taking a shower?"

"Okay, let's work this through. Did you hear anything unusual? Did she catch you --?"

"No. No, she didn't catch -- I didn't -- shut up."

Morgan got his laughter under control and said, "Okay, so she didn't catch you at shower Olympics. What else could have happened while you were in the shower?"

"I keep telling you, I don't know, man."

"Well, was she listening to the radio, watching the news? Maybe your name was mentioned."

"She had the radio on, but I haven't done anything to make the news."

"Google yourself."

Reid felt weird typing his own name into a search engine, but did so adding the day's date. "Nothing recent."

"Okay, maybe you didn't do it today, maybe she just found out about it this morning. Wait a minute, were you at her apartment or yours?"

"Mine."

"Could she have found something?"

Reid was puzzled, "Found something? Like what?"

"It's your apartment, what have you got? A closet full of Playboys?"

Reid shook his head.

"A journal, pictures of Lila?"

"No, I don't keep a journal and I only had one picture of Lila and I got rid of that weeks ago."

"How about a letter to your mother? Did you mention JJ in one of them?"

"No, I keep my letters in my bag and JJ's never gone in there. I mean there's no reason she can't, but she just doesn't. But even if she did, I haven't written about anything she'd be mad about."

"Okay, let's try something different. Let's put that photographic memory of yours to work."

"Eidetic," Reid responded out of habit.

"Who cares? Picture JJ right before you got in the shower, what she was wearing, what she said, where she was, what she was doing."

Reid closed his eyes, "Got it."

"The apartment, too. Get the whole picture in there." Reid nodded. "Now, when you got out of the shower, what was different?"

Morgan sat and watched Reid, his eyes moved under his lids like he was looking back and forth between two pictures on a wall. Reid might insist photographic memory was the wrong word, but that's what it looked like to Morgan. Suddenly Reid's eyes stilled, opened. "I got it."

&&&&&&

"I can't, Hotch."

"Come on, JJ, you don't really think you're going to be able to come up with something that's going to shock me, do you?"

JJ smiled, just last week, they'd worked a case in a downtown brothel, they'd seen things, she hadn't even known were anatomically possible. No, there was definitely nothing she'd ever done that would _**shock**_ any of her coworkers. It's nothing like that, it's just --."

Hotch waited patiently, silently, that's when she knew there was no hope. Hotch could outwait the most determined unsubs; there was no way she was leaving this office without telling him.

She took a deep breath and blurted out, "He keeps ripping my blouses."

Hotch sat up straighter, _**Reid?**_ "Honey, he's young and impatient, he'll learn, just give him time."

"No, that's not the part that got me mad. He keeps replacing them."

"And that's bad because --?"

"I told him to stop. I dress for the TV cameras, I get a clothing allowance, a big one, there's no reason for him to be spending money on my clothes."

"I'm sure he's just trying to take responsibility."

"Exactly."

Hotch just gave her a puzzled look, some things you couldn't train for, and the inside of a woman's mind was one of them.

"What makes him more responsible for my clothes than me?"

"JJ, that's just the way Reid is. He keeps replacing the coffee cups in the break room, too. I doubt he sees it as any different. He breaks a cup, he replaces it; he rips your blouse, he replaces it."

"He didn't even ask; he just started doing it. The exact same thing every time. We talked about it, I explained to him I get more than enough in my clothing allowance to replace a few blouses and I don't necessarily want the same blouse again. I mean, maybe if it's a favorite, but not every time. I thought he got it. He _promised_ to stop."

"And I take it he didn't stop?"

JJ pulled at the front of her blouse, "This shirt. This shirt I have been trying to ruin for two years. My sister gave it to me for my birthday. She's color blind, or color stupid, I don't know, but I hate it and I have to wear it, because she gave it to me. So, I get the bright idea, I put it on before Reid and I went out to the movies." Hotch nods, he sees where this is going, "No more shirt."

"So, I take it he replaced it?"

"We talked about this two weeks ago, he promised to stop, but this morning the doorbell rings and there's it is. The Goddamn ugliest shirt I have ever had the misfortune of owning is now back in my wardrobe."

"So, why are you wearing? Just send it back."

"I was going to."

"But --?"

"I wanted to confront him about it first."

"So, you put it on and waited for him to see it?"

"Yeah."

"JJ, honey, Reid may be a genius, but he's still a man. The chances that he even saw what you're wearing is pretty slim. And if he even realized it was that shirt, he probably thinks you're wearing it because you like it. Which would mean you should be happy, not mad. He's never going to figure this out on his own."

&&&&&&

"Hmm-mm." Hotch and JJ looked to the door when Reid cleared his throat. "Actually, he's right, JJ. Morgan helped me." He stepped into the room, "Can we have a little privacy, Hotch?"

Hotch looked at JJ, who nodded her consent, and left the room.

Reid waited near the door and closed it behind the older man and flipped the lock.

"JJ, I bought the shirt three weeks ago, before we talked about it, it's been on back order. I was planning to send it back as soon as it arrived."

He walked around her desk so he was towering over her, "I believe that means, you're the one who owes me an apology. Actually, make that two; one for opening a package addressed to me without asking first, and the second for not talking to me about it."

"You're right. I'm sorry, I --."

Reid placed his fingers to her lips, "I don't care about 'sorry,' I don't need to hear that." He took her hands and tugged upward and she stood in front of him, "All I want to hear is that you'll give me a chance to explain, the next time you think I'm being an idiot."

She wrapped her arms around his middle, placed her head on his chest, "I really am sorry," she paused for a second, "for everything."

"Yeah, well, you're going to be even sorrier when you don't get any tonight, 'cause it's still broken. Which also means you're going to have to wear that ugly shirt at least one more time before I can rip it off you."

JJ groaned. "That's probably the worst punishment for being stupid you could ever come up with."

"Well, maybe we can just take it down to the Salvation Army and donate it? Then neither one of us has to look at it again."

"What? You don't like it?"

"JJ, I hate that shirt, it looks like a circus threw up on you."

She just laughed. What more was there to say?


	7. The Whistle

Disclaimer: Usual disclaimers, I do not own any CM characters, I'm just borrowing them and will return them in the same condition as I found them.

THE WHISTLE

Morgan felt kind of bad about what he'd done, but he knew it was the right thing. He'd know Reid wasn't likely to pass his firearms qualifications. He'd really hoped he would, but -- well, Hotch hadn't sounded very hopeful when he'd come back from the firing range yesterday.

It really didn't matter to him whether Reid carried a gun but he knew it mattered to Reid. Personally he figured half the reason Reid was such a bad shot was because he couldn't stand the thought of actually shooting someone, but that was something he had to work through himself.

But the thing was he joked with Reid all the time. He picked on him like he was the little brother he'd never had. Most of the time Reid seemed to enjoy it, but he knew sometimes he'd hit a nerve, sometimes he went to far, sometimes he touched on subjects best left alone. He'd never done that deliberately, he only teased Reid because he loved him like a brother. But Reid failing his test could very well be one of those times when it would be so easy to go too far.

It would be so easy, a word here, a gesture there and Reid would fall apart on him; maybe get angry enough to take a swing at him, which would only embarrass Reid, 'cause Morgan was fast, he'd move and Reid would miss - or if he let Reid hit him, then Reid would feel guilty and if there were other people around embarrassed again.

Then there was another possibility that was even worse, Reid might get so anxious about when Morgan was going to say something, do something, that he would be distracted, jumpy, nervous - those were not good emotions on Reid. The poor kid had enough problems with his self-esteem as it was, it would be two whole weeks before he could retest, and he didn't need to be on the defensive, just waiting for Morgan to humiliate him.

Which is why -- man, it made him feel so bad having to do it, but that's why Morgan had planned ahead, decided exactly what to say, chosen his time precisely, mapped out his actions. That is why the moment Reid walked in, angry, defensive, prepared for attack, ready for whatever Morgan was going to throw at him, that was the moment Morgan gave him the freakin' whistle. Really it was the kindest thing he could do.


	8. Cuffs

Disclaimer: Usual disclaimers, I do not own any CM characters, I'm just borrowing them and will return them in the same condition as I found them.

CUFFS

Morgan stopped short as he opened the door to the round table room, Reid was sitting at the table, there was nothing unusual in that, what stopped him in his tracks was the look on his face. Fear. Pure sheer terror. Morgan looked around the room, he didn't see any cause for Reid's discomfort. Nobody else was in the room. He watched as Reid licked his lips, determination steeling across his features. He reached out a hand and poked at the set of handcuffs sitting on the table. Morgan was unsure whether he should enter the room or turn around and leave. Would Reid want him to witness this -- whatever this was?

Suddenly Reid looked up to him. The younger man tried to smile, but it was really more of a grimace. "Thanks for meeting me, I need to ask you a favor. A big favor."

Morgan walked over and sat across from Reid. He waited. Reid was staring at the cuffs again, he reminded Morgan or somebody waiting for a guard dog to bite, a snake to strike. Fear and fascination. "You know, they used to be toys. I used to play with them, I learned how to pick them, it was a cool magic trick - escapism. All I needed was a paperclip." He slammed a fist on the table, raised voice, angry, frustrated, fighting the tears he wouldn't allow to come, "All I needed was a goddamn paperclip."

He drew a shuddering breath, blew it out, "I haven't touched them -- since." Morgan knew exactly what "since" was. None of them ever spoke about it, they all danced around it, but every single one of them knew what "since" was, what "Georgia" meant, when "then" was, who "he" was.

Silently he rubbed his left wrist, the scars were gone, nobody could see them anymore, the redness, the raw, torn skin, the bruises had all healed months ago. Physically, visibly they were gone, at least to everybody else. To him they were still there, they ached, they bled, at night, when it was dark, when he was alone, sometimes they were still as fresh as they were when his team had found him, saved him.

Slowly he reached his hand out, placed his palm firmly on the silver bracelets, "Until you asked me to hand you yours today to cuff the unsub, I haven't touched a pair of handcuffs."

"What do you mean; we carry them every day, how can you not have touched them?"

"I've kept a set in my bag, I got a case for them, I actually had the clerk put them in it, and I haven't taken them out. They aren't toys anymore. They're not a trick to be learned, a prop to be mastered. They're my enemy."

He looked straight at Morgan, determination in his eyes, "They've become my enemy and I need to defeat them."

Morgan looked at his best friend, his little brother, he didn't know what would be required of him, but he knew he'd do whatever it took, "How can I help?"

Reid picked the cuffs up, "You know how in training, the instructors make the students practice arrests on each other, run hostage scenarios - you're cuffed, how do you talk your way out? Part of it's so you don't freak out if it happens, you know how to stay calm if an unsub captures you, puts your own cuffs on you," his breath hitched, "straps you to a chair, holds a gun to your head and beats you."

"You did it, Reid. You stayed calm, you stayed alive, and you told us how to find you."

Reid smiled sadly, nodded. They both knew that wasn't exactly true. He'd died in that cabin; he'd died with the stench of burning fish guts in the air and handcuffs around his wrists. It was only a twist of a fractured mind that had brought him back.

"I did. More or less." He held the cuffs out to Morgan who took them automatically, "but if it happened again tomorrow, I wouldn't be able to. If it happened tomorrow, I'd be lost in the past. If it happened tomorrow, I'd panic."

"You beat the drugs."

"With help. I need to beat this, too. I need help to beat this."

Morgan nodded. "You've got it. I'm right here." He held up the cuffs, "You're thinking operant conditioning?"

Reid nodded. Operant conditioning, positive reinforcement, the opposite of aversion therapy. "Voluntary behavior modification through positive reinforcement."

"You know it's going to take time?"

"I know."

"We'll need to take it slow."

"Well, I'm not asking you to chain me up for three days to prove I can survive it again. I was thinking a little more like thirty seconds to start with."

A voice from the door responded, "Actually, I think we should start with you just handling them first." Hotch walked in and sat across from Reid and Morgan. He took the cuffs from Morgan, placed them in his palm and held his hand out to Reid. "Then we'll move up to putting them on you for a minute or two at a time. Work up to it over several weeks, maybe a couple months."

Reid looked through the window to the bullpen; JJ, Garcia and Emily were leaning against a desk, looking back, watching them. They looked worried.

Hotch saw him looking to the rest of the team; he spoke softly, soothingly, "They can help."

Reid felt a moment's embarrassment, it had been hard enough asking Morgan for help, he hated for the whole team to see his weakness. Again. He looked out the window again and felt a moment's shame, not at his perceived weakness, but at his reluctance to let them see his faults. They'd all been there for him, every step of the way through his withdrawal, they'd held his hands, listened to his screams, wiped the sweat from his brow, the vomit from his clothes. They'd taken turns sitting by his bedside, making sure he was never alone for a moment, even when he managed to sleep. They'd heard the nightmares, comforted him in their aftermath. They'd dragged him from the abyss and he was embarrassed to let them know he needed help again.

He nodded to Hotch, who waved the girls in. They hurried in as if afraid he would change his mind and exclude them from whatever was happening. They listened attentively as Hotch explained the ins and outs of the therapy techniques they would use to help Reid become comfortable with his handcuffs, to become comfortable being handcuffed. Emily was familiar with the process; JJ and Garcia absorbed the details quickly.

He took the cuffs from Hotch's hand and held them while he concentrated on the friendship that flowed through this room. Garcia grasped his free hand, and he drew strength from her touch, quieting his tremors. He smiled at the thought that of all of them she knew the least about the psychology of positive reinforcement and behavior modification, but she was the one who practiced it naturally: Smiles, hugs, cookies and kisses.

Morgan broke into his thoughts by saying, "I think we have a workable plan, the only question is whether we can get our hands on enough M&Ms and Rice Krispie Treats for this to work?"

A.N.: Operant conditioning, Wikipedia

http://en. 


	9. Planning Ahead

PLANNING AHEAD

"Studmuffin?"

"No, too cliché."

"Adonis?"

"Too easy, he is a god of gorgeous, but I want original. Who's the god of sex? Is there a god of sex? Not Aphrodite, a male one. I'll have to Google that later."

"Black Angel?"

"No, too ethnic."

"Maybe Dark Angel."

"I've got it, Chocolate Angel."

"Yeah, yeah, I like that one. It's perdect. Definite check in the yes column."

"Hello, my Chocolate Angel, you need simply ask and I shall move Heaven and Earth to find your answer."

Penelope smiled, now she just had to wait for his call.


	10. Happy Birthday to Me

HAPPY BIRTHDAY TO ME

I look around the table at my friends, my family. Yes, I have a mother and a father, but Mom's in Bennington on the other side of the country, and the man I no longer call Dad, well, for years I've had the ability to find him, but until Em yelled at me after Gideon left I've never had the desire to do it. I've decided to ask Garcia to help me find him. I don't think I'm going to contact him. Not yet. But maybe if I know what he's doing now, I can get a handle on why he left when he did, the way he did.

Garcia's maybe my best friend, she a little odd just like me - well, not _just_ like me, she's special in her own way, and she embraces it. She could blend in if she wanted to, but "that wouldn't be any fun, Reid." She got me a 1947 original edition of Dark Carnival by Ray Bradbury and his newest book, Now and Forever Somewhere a Band is Playing & Leviathan '99, and she actually arranged to have him sign them. The woman has scary connections. I'd hate to get on her bad side; I might find myself on a plane to Tibet or something. She could probably arrange that nightmare meeting between me and a Yeti that I'd let slip when we were on assignment in Alaska.

She's sitting next to Morgan. One of these days he's going to wake up and realize how she feels about him. I mean I may be socially inept, but I am a trained observer, I see so much more than people think I do; I just don't ever say anything about it. Now, I wonder if it's too late for Morgan, after she was shot she met this tech, Kevin Lynch, he works for the Bureau, too. She went head to head with him to get information from her computer, watching her battle it out on the computer was amazing, I swear that was hacker foreplay. I think they fell a little bit in love before they ever saw each other, and when he looks at her, he sees an amazing woman. I won't be surprised if someday I get an e-invitation to a cyberworld wedding. Hmm, I wonder if anyone's figured out a way to do that legally yet? I'll have to look it up when I get home.

Morgan got me tickets to a sci-fi movie marathon that's playing next weekend. He put them in a gift box and put a note in that he got them with the intention to go with me, but if there was someone special I wanted to take with me, he'd cheer me on. He knows I just can't _get_ the dating thing, but he keeps trying. He's dragged me out on a couple double dates, but his taste in women tends to lean toward -- well, let's just say I like to think that when I eventually do get together with a woman, she'll be someone I can send flowers to the next day because, oh, I don't know, _maybe I know where she lives_. Since I don't drink at all anymore he's stopped dragging me to bars, but he hasn't given up on trying to find me a lady friend, he just drags me to parties instead.

Em's a good friend; it amazes me that she never held my behavior against me when my life was fogged by the drugs and the post-traumatic stress disorder. She had plenty of opportunity to rat me out to Hotch and Gideon but she didn't. Hotch told me later that she was the one who arranged to get me into rehab under a fake name when I let the team know I was ready for help in San Francisco, she also paid for a charter plane and "retrieval specialist" to pick me up and bring me there. She's another woman with a few scary good connections. She visited me every day the team was home. I looked over at her gift sitting on the next table, a "wizards chess" chess set. I can't decide whether to bring it on the plane or into the office. She's a great player, not as good as Gideon, but better than me, still we're a little more evenly matched and I beat her sometimes.

I mean all that time and I only beat him once, I smiled to myself, that was the day I asked JJ out. She was sitting on my left side, _somehow_ she always would up sitting next to me. Did the rest of the team really think that either of us wouldn't notice? It's okay by me. I really, really like JJ. Morgan's asked me about our date a few times, but the thought of discussing something so private just feels wrong. I thought the date went really well, she was really patient explaining things to me. I had researched the game beforehand so I actually had a clue what was going on, but understanding the principles of the game and translating it to what was going on, on the field are two different things.

Of course we were both a little embarrassed when I spilled my beer on her, and tried to wipe it up - from her shirt. _Cold_ beer. I must have been as red as a stop sign when I realized where my hands were. I was so embarrassed I couldn't even look at her for the next quarter. She told me it was no big deal, but I felt like such a pervert at the same time I wanted to do it again - without the beer. When I walked her to her door she told me she'd had a great time and kissed me good-bye - on the cheek. I've tried to ask her out a few times since then, but she's turned me down, the trouble is I'm not sure if she turned me down because she's not interested in the things I've asked her to go to or if she's not interested in me. For a split second I considered asking her to the movie marathon, but I _know_ she's not interested in sci-fi.

Sometimes I'd swear she's flirting with me, other times I'm sure she thinks I'm her brother. I don't know whether she's sending mixed signals or if my antenna's just screwed up. From the way the whole team maneuvers the two of us to sit next to each other, I have to guess she's never complained about me, so I guess there's a chance. Even her gift tonight sends me mixed messages, a gift card to a luxury bath shop, I'd been distracted and let it slip that I love bubble baths, not very manly, I know, but they _are_ relaxing. She'd told me I should light scented candles.

The second we'd realized what we were discussing we'd both turned beet red and started talking about the decapitated body on the other side of the room, but her gift made me wonder if she'd been thinking about me in the tub, which makes me think about her in the tub, about her thinking about me in the tub while she's in the tub. Water and bubbles and candlelight and -- oh, God, down Reid, bad Reid. I take a bite of my prime rib thinking I'm as bad as Garcia used to be with Morgan. I hope not -- or at least not as obvious.

I turn my attention to Rossi. I'm afraid I have a little case of hero worship -- okay, okay, a big case of hero worship. I'll get over it, I swear. Morgan's been helping me rein it in, quietly signaling me when I start to get going. Nobody really wants to hear their life story spit out at them, most people who know that much about someone would have to be a stalker. He's not too put off by it though, so I guess Hotch explained to him a bit about how I am.

It's not that I obsess about any one person or thing, it's just that with the speed I read it's easy to research everything public about someone, or thing, and with my eidetic memory I can recall all that research, and then I get so caught up in trying to relay the relevant information that I just kind of forget that not everybody wants as much detail as I do.

I'm getting better really. Just this morning, Emily had said something about a type of serial killer that I knew Rossi had researched, and instead of telling her about his research, I told her he'd done a paper about it, and let him tell the group. Later he asked me my opinion on the paper. That was so cool. He got me a book on Jack the Ripper - I already have a copy, but it's really cool that he took the time to find out something I'm interested in. I mean we haven't discussed the Ripper at work since he's been come back to the BAU, so he had to either ask someone or do some research, I've published three papers on the Ripper, so it's something that pops up in a standard search … on a scale of one to ten how weird is it to Google yourself?

Anyhow, I'm really looking forward to getting to know Rossi better, there's so much I can learn from him.

Hotch has been pretty down since Haley left, but he's seemed better lately. Haley's been letting him see Jack as much as possible, so that helps. At first she was a little resentful when he would call after a hard case and want to see him, or hear his voice, but she know how much he loves Jack. It's something I'd never say out loud, but I have to wonder at how quickly she's started dating again. It wasn't even a month before Hotch mentioned something about her boyfriend.

And back to me being more observant than people think, he did not say NEW. I think Haley might have been having an affair. On the one hand Hotch is such a dedicated, loyal person I can't understand how she could cheat on him, on the other hand, we spend more than half our time on the road, which means that she spent more than half her time alone. I'd be angry on his behalf (well, I am anyway) but I'd be more angry on his behalf if it weren't for the fact that she married a lawyer, not an agent. It may not have been strictly nine to five, but he was home every night. He may have dealt with murder cases, but he didn't come home with blood on his hands, sometimes literally.

I think he's going to be all right with this though, he hasn't talked about it, but I saw divorce papers on his desk. I think the big issue is going to be the house. It was his parents' house, his mom moved into an apartment when he and Haley transferred back to Virginia (think she was hoping for lots of grandkids), but he'd like Jack to grow up there. On the other hand, I really don't think he wants Haley living there with another man, no matter how good he is to Jack.

He actually seems pretty happy tonight. I never would have expected such a fanciful gift from him, a leather-bound collection of Grimms Fairy Tales, old style, the 1884 translations by Margaret Hunt. Many believed hers to be the best translation, the most accurate. Absolutely not the Politically Correct Bedtime Stories version. It was whimsical and gruesome, absolutely perfect.

Sometimes it amazes me how much these people care about me, it amazes me even more how much I've come to care about them. I'm not alone anymore and I know I never will be again. People wonder how much their friends mean to them and how much they mean to their friends. I know.

Would they be mad if I called them in the middle of the night because I couldn't sleep? No, Morgan actually came over and brought instant hot chocolate and a bag of little marshmallows when I did.

Would they see you in a funk and drag you out to have a good time whether you wanted to or not? Yeah, Garcia's forced me to have fun more than once.

Would they rat you out if you got mean and snippy? Nope, Emily, let me snap and came back for more, she was even brave enough to tell me I was being an ass (not that it worked at the time, but she tried).

Would they touch you, even though you shy away from physical contact because you just aren't used to it? Yeah, I've come to love it when JJ ruffles my hair, or slaps me in the chest to make a point. Morgan slaps my back because that's what buddies do. Emily and Garcia give me friendly little shoves when we're joking around.

Will they explain a joke three times because you're too analytical and just don't get it the first time? Even better will they let you explain your joke three times because the reference is too obscure and they just don't get it? Yes to both.

Would they sit through sixteen hours of sci-fi movies because _you_ like them? Well, I've got the tickets to prove it.

Would they understand when you shout out their name, marking them for death, hear the message it took you three clicks to think up? Well, he hugged me in the graveyard when I stank of rotted, burned fish hearts and livers and barely dry urine from when my heart stopped, held me close when my face was covered in blood and drool and maybe a little snot.

Would they hold your hand when the sound of footsteps in leaves made you crave the demon that had nearly stolen your soul? Yes, they'd set up a rotation, sitting up with me all night, sometimes reading to me like Mom had when I was a child, or just watching while me sleep, waiting for the nightmares that always come after I've heard that sound or smelled fish.

Would they give up eating fish, because the smell gave you flashbacks? Yeah, JJ, perpetually on a diet because of the cameras, hasn't had it once, not even at home, because we're on call twenty-four/seven and she doesn't want me to smell it on her breath. Garcia told me about that, she switched to chicken salad for me.

Would they die for you? Without a doubt.

Would you die for them? Three clicks had proven that. Three clicks unwilling to send the monster to them even though I knew they'd be ready, but what if they weren't. Three clicks trying to force my mind to come up with a way to tell them we were in a cemetery. Three clicks knowing I desperately didn't want to die, but would rather die than cause harm to one of them. Three clicks to realize just how important my family is to me.

Ahh, back to touch, ever since Emily found out I'm ticklish, she's delighted in tickling my ribs, at least once a week she gets me. Instinctively, I pull my arms in and suck my stomach back, she's laughing so hard I play it up a little, slapping at her hand. The whole group laughs at us as she tells me to eat my vegetables so we can have cake. I try to point out that it's a restaurant and we can have dessert even if we don't clean our plates, but I see Hotch looking paternal from the other side of the table and decide it's easier to give in, at least tonight's vegetable is carrots not spinach or brussel sprouts.

I've never gotten to like vegetables, see the thing about taking over cooking for the family at ten, no ten year old is going to decide to put veggies on the table. I did, however, know enough to take a multivitamin every day; even then I knew I didn't want rickets or scurvy. I mean, I've switched from Flintstones to a grown-up version, but I still take them faithfully. I'm not sure when my eating habits became everybody's business, but I suppose it goes along with people randomly sniffing my breath and checking my pupils just to keep me on my toes. Could be worse, at least none of them's asked me to pee in a cup for them. Yet. I know they will if it becomes necessary and I use that thought to strengthen my resolve on the rough nights.

I scoop up the last few carrots and make a big production of grimacing over the taste. It's not that I really hate them, but I don't like them either. After the laughter dies down I thank Morgan again for the movie tickets then turn to Emily and ask her what her favorite movie is. It takes several minutes, but I manage to work my way around to my goal, although I'm not sure whether knowing that Pretty Woman is JJ's all-time favorite movie is going to help me or not, but at least it's a start.

I've decided that if I want JJ to go out with me again, I'm going to have to be a little more aggressive, and maybe just a bit sneaky. Philosophers say what doesn't kill you makes you stronger, Morgan says to use my experiences to make me stronger, Gideon told me time and again that I'm stronger than I think, I've decided they're all right. If I want JJ to give me a chance, I'm going to have to do something to make it happen.

When I get home I'll see if Julia Roberts or Richard Gere have a new movie coming out any time soon. Tomorrow I'll buy a copy of Pretty Woman, I know there's going to be a time when I just don't want to be alone, when it'll be her turn to keep me company, I'll be ready when the chance comes up. I also know a few sites that make recommendations on movies to see based on movies you like.

There's a chance she'll tell me to go to hell, I know that, I'm prepared for it, if she does, then at least I'll know. If she does I've promised myself I'll move on. No, I'm not going to let Morgan set me up, but he's not my only friend at the table, he's not the only one who's tried to set me up. Garcia's tried to get me to go out, last month Emily tried to introduce me to a friend of hers.

Most people make New Year's resolutions; me, I'm different, a little odd, I make birthday wishes, then I do my damnedest to make them come true. I look up to see a waitress carrying a lit birthday cake to our table. I can't help but blush as I become the center of attention for the whole restaurant, but it's okay, even though I'm a little embarrassed, the emotions behind the gesture and the song (which even Rossi joins in on) are real.

The song ends and JJ impulsively pulls my face to her and kisses my cheek, "Make a wish, Birthday Boy." I smile as I blow out the candles. I think my birthday wish just might come true this year. Happy birthday to me.


	11. The Christmas Card

Disclaimer: Well, they weren't under my tree this year, so I guess I still don't own them, just borrowing them for a little while.

THE CHRISTMAS CARD

Reid stopped at his mailbox as he entered his building. Oh, good, this month's National Geographic was here; light bill; AMJ renewal notice; bill from Bennington, he should send some extra spending money this month. Oh, what's this? A Christmas card? Who would be sending him a Christmas card?

He let himself in the second door, and meandered to the elevator, seemed like his ready bag was always heavier on its way home - who knew a little dirt could weigh so much? He tucked the rest of his mail under his arm as he punched the button for his floor.

There was no return address but there was a Brooklyn postmark, that's funny, he didn't know anyone in New York City. He slid a finger under the flap and pulled out the card. He smiled at the Norman Rockwell scene on the front. He looked inside and felt a lump in his throat "Hey, Reid, I just wanted to let you know you were right, I'm here, I did win, it just took a little longer than I was willing to wait. So, I say to you, you're here, you won, just give it a little time. Love, Elle."

He smiled, apparently Elle was doing much better emotionally than when she had left. That was good.

He continued reading; "P.S., will you just ask JJ out again already? The next chick flick that comes out just walk up to her and say you wanna go see - fill in the blank. And if you want a third date, don't forget to bring her chocolates, Belgian."

Reid smiled as he stepped off the elevator, it was Christmas, life was starting to get good, and Elle had just given him a big boost of hope that it was only going to get better.

He unlocked his door and headed for his computer, so chick flicks and Belgian chocolates, huh? He smiled to himself, that could be arranged.


	12. Cuffs Two The Final Exam

CUFFS TWO

THE FINAL EXAM

Morgan slipped into Reid's apartment quietly. The team had been working with their youngest member for nearly two months helping him get over his P.T.S.D. from his kidnapping and torture at the hands of Tobias Hankel and 'friends,' and today was final-exam day. Unless the team received an emergency call-out Reid would be spending the entire day in cuffs. Hotch had arrived at six-thirty that morning and had surprised Reid in bed by throwing a pillowcase over his head and pinning him down with his own blankets while he applied the cuffs. Garcia had asked if he'd taken photos. 

Hotch had a black eye to prove that Reid's self-defense skills were improving dramatically. And according to Hotch's report his vocabulary had taken quite a leap as well. Morgan supposed when you averaged five to six books a day for twenty years, you could pick up a wide range of swear words and insults, but what the hell was a, "Butt-ugly, mother-fucking, bottom-feeding, vermicula-eating Antedean" anyway? Probably some sci-fi thing. 

Hotch had made sure he'd eaten nice, healthy breakfast, put Reid through some modified (can't do regular jumping jacks with your hands cuffed) calisthenics to pass the time and work on his mobility while restrained. Then at nine he'd bound the younger man to the pipes under the bathroom sink, turned the light off and left him alone, telling him he had an appointment and somebody would be coming by "soon." Unknown to Reid, he'd brought along Jack's baby monitor, which he'd set up out of Reid's sight before going out to wait for Garcia in the hallway. Today was meant to be _**rough**_ on the kid, not _**dangerous**_, Hotch would be back inside in under ten seconds if Reid needed him. 

Garcia had arrived at ten to replace Hotch. She brought Scrabble and a can of tuna fish to make sandwiches for lunch. Apparently Reid had done well with the tuna. He'd managed to ignore it until lunchtime, then had actually eaten half a sandwich with his tomato soup. She'd chosen the combination because Reid had told her his mom used to make it for him on her good days, said it would let him think about love not torture. Funny Garcia seemed to understand positive reinforcement better than any of the rest of them. They'd chosen Garcia for this detail figuring Reid would be less embarrassed if he wound up losing his lunch in front of her than any of the rest of them. She figured she'd be best at comforting him afterward if it happened. Morgan figured they were all right.

JJ had taken the two-to-six shift. She'd been planning to bring a couple movies. They'd decided that keeping with the theme of the day of not letting Reid get too comfortable, it should be something that Reid wouldn't normally choose to watch. That decision had been unanimous - chick flick. He wondered what JJ had chosen. 

And his assignment (six to ten) was to startle Reid when he arrived, the equivalent of jumping out of a closet and yelling "boo." He stepped out of the entryway remembering that Hotch and Reid would have moved the couch that morning so Reid wouldn't be able to see who was entering, and the soundtrack from the movie should have covered up the sound of the alarm being reset when he came in. 

He paused to examine the scene in front of him: JJ was curled up next to Reid on the couch, her head resting on his shoulder, it looked like she had fallen asleep during the movie (she'd had to deal with reporters last night long after the rest of the team had headed home), Reid had slid his arm behind her and she was effectively trapped by his bonds. The DVD had ended and the title screen to Titanic was looping over and over. 

Morgan nearly groaned in sympathy for his friend, he'd figured out some time ago that the reason Reid never voted for movies that contained nudity was _**not**_ because he was a prude, or naive like Garcia thought, it was because he wasn't. He had the same physiological reactions as every other red-blooded male to seeing a naked woman in a sexual situation; he just didn't want anyone else knowing how he was affected. And Morgan's trying to convince him to just relax and enjoy it, hadn't seemed to help much, the kid was too shy for his own good. It must have been torture for him to cuddled on the couch with his dream woman and not be able to touch.

Morgan smiled as he stepped into Reid's line of vision. He'd figured his sudden appearance would be enough to give Reid a good jolt, but he just looked up with a slightly dazed expression on his face and quietly shh'd Morgan. 

He kept his voice low as he asked, "When'd she fall asleep?"

"Right after the opening credits. She must have been exhausted."

"Yeah, her phone was still ringing off the hook when I got out of there last night. I talked to Garcia earlier she said JJ didn't get home until about three this morning. She'd probably sleep through just about anything right now." Morgan tried not to smirk at what he was saying. He really did, but there was no way the kid realized what he was doing. Guess he finally had a little bit of that relax and enjoy it going on after all. He wondered whether there was any chance of getting his phone out to snap a couple pictures of this, they'd make great blackmail material. 

He walked back out to the hallway and picked up the take-out he'd left sitting in the hallway so the smell wouldn't give him away. He waved the Burrito Grandes under JJ's nose, figuring if she didn't wake up soon, she'd never get back to sleep that night. He waited until she started to stir before he pointed at Reid's hands and mentioned that it might be a good idea for him to stop_** doing that**_ before she woke up. 

Reid looked at Morgan in confusion for a moment before looking down at his own hands, the left one was rather innocently resting on JJ's lower ribcage, but the right one was cupping JJ's left breast and his thumb was absently rubbing across the stiffened nipple, the glazed look in his eyes was replaced with sheer horror over fondling JJ in her sleep, and not realizing it, and getting caught, by Morgan.

Morgan couldn't help laughing out loud as Reid scrambled to untangle himself from JJ and stood up, waking her in the process. She blinked owlishly, as she tried to wake up more fully and looked straight ahead, at Reid, at crotch level. She blinked a few more times before mumbling, "Oh. So, you liked the movie?" 

It took close to a half hour for Morgan and JJ to coax Reid out of his bedroom. Morgan assumed the steady thumping sound they'd heard for the first ten minutes was Reid hitting his head against the door. When he'd finally come out he'd blushed and stammered the entire time they sat at the small kitchen table eating. Morgan silently decided he'd need to enlist Garcia's help tomorrow to make the kid realize that JJ noticing he had an erection wasn't the end of the world, but on the upside, he seemed to barely notice the cuffs during the meal.

JJ didn't linger after the meal, claiming a movie date with Garcia. Morgan was sure it was an excuse for Reid's benefit, but he was also fairly certain JJ _**would**_ be heading straight over to Garcia's for a little relationship counseling. 

Morgan ran Reid through some more range-of-motion exercises to help keep him from getting too stiff, and tried to initiate some "guy talk" about what had happened earlier. He found out Reid had been paying attention in their hand-to-hand lessons when Reid "accidentally" gave him a double-fisted smack upside the back of his head when he wasn't looking. At least he wasn't going to have a black eye. 

He tried to make up for it by letting Reid take him for fifty bucks at blackjack. Of course the "letting" part was in the agreement to play, not the game itself, he won three hands, at a buck apiece. He'd think Reid had marked the cards, except it was a brand-new pack that he'd brought himself. 

By the time Prentiss showed up with her overnight bag at ten, Reid seemed to be in a much better mood. Morgan knew she'd spoken to JJ and Garcia by the way she surreptitiously checked out the front of Reid's slacks. At least she managed to do it while Reid wasn't paying attention. 

Morgan hung around until Reid excused himself to use the bathroom and pulled Prentiss into the kitchen to make sure his friend wouldn't overhear, "Whatever you do, _**do not**_ mention what happened this afternoon to the kid."

She was barely able to contain her mirth as she responded, "All right, but it might be _**hard**_."

"I'm serious, Em. One word and I may have to bring up what happened in Arizona." Their ready bags had gotten put in the wrong rooms and she had burst into his room with his bag just in time to find him holding up her 'little friend' in one hand and a fire-engine-red lace thong in the other. 

"You wouldn't."

"At dinner."

"You're evil."

"And don't you forget it."

When Morgan left Reid and Prentiss watching the end of the ten o'clock news he felt confident that his little buddy was in good hands. They'd selected Emily for the overnight shift because Reid waking up or in P.T.S.D. mode responded better to a woman's voice than a man's and she had a lot more hand-to-hand training than JJ and Garcia - just in case. 

After the world news, she'd release one wrist and attach the cuff to a leather strap looped around the leg of Reid's bed; he'd have enough freedom to move around a little, but not much. Then she'd settle down to spend the night on the couch ready to release Reid at a moment's notice if it became too much and he needed the cuffs off before morning. 

Morgan let himself out quietly, certain his friend would make it through the night. After all, Reid just may be the strongest person he'd ever met. Sure he'd gotten a little damaged, but he was repairing the damage one step at a time, just look how far he'd come from that day in the conference room when he'd first asked Morgan for help.

A.N.: Antedeans are a Star Trek The Next Generation race that resemble fish on legs and eat something called vermicula. I figure Reid would be able to come up with something really unique if he wanted to.


	13. New Beginnings

NEW BEGINNINGS

"Thanks, Haley." It galled to have to thank his soon-to-be-ex-wife for letting him spend time with his child, but he could live with it. "I'll have him at your mother's house at quarter to ten tomorrow for Easter brunch."

"Do you have plans?"

He took Jack from her arms, "We're going to color Easter eggs; read some Easter books; and I got an Easter Bunny DVD for bedtime, don't worry, it's only twenty minutes long; and in the morning we're going to have a treasure hunt."

"How are you going to do a treasure hunt, he can't read?"

"Believe it or not, it was Reid's idea - I used pictures clues in the eggs,

"You remembered nothing he can swallow."

"Of course. It's a B-U-N-N-Y about" he juggled Jack to hold his hands about a foot apart, "this big."

&&&&&&

Morgan instinctively looked up at the overhead speakers as pre-boarding for his flight was called. Since FBI agents flew armed, they had an extra security step to go through, "See you Monday, Reid. I hope your mom's having one of her good days." He was looking forward to seeing his family again, there really is no place like home.

"Yeah, tell your mom and sisters I said 'hi.'" His flight wouldn't board for close to an hour, but not having to deal with airport traffic made the wait worth it. He hoped his mom would recognize him and be glad to see him, but he'd learned that even if that wasn't the case, it was worth it to make the time to see her. He'd finally released the guilt he felt over putting her in an institution and realized _**in his heart**_ that she was far better off than if he'd tried to take care of her himself. He smiled to himself as he headed off to the gift shop to see if they had any novels he hadn't read yet, he hadn't gotten to any of this month's best-sellers yet.

&&&&&&

JJ opened the door to her mom's house and called out, "Hey, where is everybody? The prodigal daughter has returned. She 'oomphed' as her brother grabbed her in a bear hug and lifted her off her feet. She saw her mom smiling at her over his shoulder, her niece and nephew waiting their turns for a chance to hug Aunt JJ. They rushed her as soon as their father put her down, "Did you bring us anything?"

Go get the blue suitcase from my car, there might be something in there for you guys."

"You know you don't have to bring them gifts every time you come home, JJ." Her brother worried about her spoiling them.

"I know, but what's the use of having an aunt who travels the world, if you don't get souvenirs. Really, I don't get them any more than if I was living next door, they just get them all at once. Of course, if you don't like my bringing presents home, you could return the last one I brought you." She thought about the autographed Redskins jersey she had scored for him when she and Spencer had gone to the game, he really couldn't complain too much.

Her mother embraced her and she asked, "Where's Daddy?"

"That fool is out in the backyard, standing in the snow, barbequing." JJ silently calculated the number of extra crunches she was going to have to do and decided that her father's barbequed steaks were just about worth it.

&&&&&&

"Hello, Emily."

"Hello, Father, thanks for coming today." She took his coat and hung it in the closet. She thought about her improved relationship with her mother - who had made dinner reservations for them for tomorrow night - and hugged him when she turned around. She held him for an agonized moment before she felt his arms come around her. She'd been going through puberty the last time she'd gotten a real hug from one of her parents, it felt wonderful.

She'd spent a week planning a menu her mother's chef would be proud of - an appetizer of warm artichoke dip on melba rounds, spinach-bacon salad, honey-apple glazed ham, garlic mashed potatoes, white asparagus and thyme, cheese biscuits and lemon-orange sponge cake for dessert - there were times when a youth spent hiding out in the kitchens came in handy, but the hug was far better than any praise she would ever garner for her cooking skills.

"I love you, Dad."

"I love you too, Princess."

&&&&&&

Penelope laughed at the antics of her brothers and the kids, somehow a friendly argument over the proper way to eat a chocolate bunny had turned into team wrestling in the middle of the floor. Not that it was anything unusual. In fact she had helped her sister-in-law had remove all the lamps from the room the night before.

She watched her youngest nephew standing to the side, yearning to get in on the fun, but too small to do so without getting hurt. She crooked her finger to him, signaling him to stand next to her. She whispered in his ear. It was time to teach him that being the smallest meant needing to be sneaky. She waited until the pile on the floor became nearly motionless, panting the only activity left and scooped up four-year-old Johnny and planted him on top of the pile where he yelled out, "I win."

&&&&&&

Dave knocked on his daughter's door and enveloped her I a warm hug when she answered. "You made it. Now that you're back with the Bureau, I was worried you'd be called away."

They stepped inside, "I know, Honey, but it's something I needed to do."

"I understand. I finally do. She led him to the living room, where her husband and a woman he'd never met before were waiting. You probably heard about the baby that was kidnapped from the hospital last month?"

"Yeah. I did an emergency phone consult on the case. They found him two days later with a woman who'd just miscarried for the third time."

"Dad, I want you to meet Sophia." The woman stooped to pick up a small blue bundle from a bassinet by her chair.

"Thank you, Agent Rossi." The woman stood on tiptoe to kiss his cheek, she held the bundle so he could see the sleeping child inside, "His name is David, and I can never thank you enough."

&&&&&&

"So, Dad, how's retirement treating you?"

Gideon moved the knight across the board, "It's been peaceful, I think I can get used to being a man without a mission."

"You look good. Less stressed."

He smiled, "Thanks, I'm getting a lot of fresh air. I went skiing in Lake Placid last week. It's beautiful up there."

"I wanted to ask you something."

"Ask away."

"We're taking the kids to Disney next month and we wondered if you'd like to come along."

Gideon let himself absorb the feeling, two years ago he'd been afraid to pick up the phone and call his son, now he was being asked to go on vacation with him and his family. Life really could be beautiful sometimes. He smiled at his son and said, "I'd love to come with you."

A.N.: Happy Easter, everyone.


	14. Steps

Disclaimer: Usual disclaimers, I do not own any CM characters, I'm just borrowing them and will return them in the same condi

Disclaimer: Usual disclaimers, I do not own any CM characters, I'm just borrowing them and will return them in the same condition as I found them.

Warnings: Tissue alert? Very mild spoilers for Elephant's Memory and Third Life, one sentence of "ick."

STEPS

"I -- I felt like a murderer. I figured out his trigger - take Jordan away; I told the team how to do it - JJ and Emily said Eileen could contact her; then I pulled the trigger - showed her what Owen had done, told her to leave."

"You were trying to save Jordan."

"I know that. I really do. But I didn't _**feel**_ that. How could I possibly feel that while I'm leading a teenage boy to his death."

"So, you decided to take off your gun and your vest and go chat with a sociopath with a machine gun?"

"I just -- I just needed to -- I needed to fix what I'd done. I needed to make it right. He had no reason to kill me. I hadn't hurt him - at least not that he knew about - I hadn't hurt Jordan. I wasn't a threat to him. Everyone he killed had hurt him or Jordan, that's not a sociopath. That's not the profile of someone who can't be saved."

"No, it's not, Kid. But you could have been wrong."

"Yeah." He gave a dry laugh, "You know that moment when you realize you've just done the dumbest thing in your life? I've just done the dumbest thing in my life and the only way out is to keep going forward. I'm standing there in front of Owen, and I hear you guys pull up behind me. And at first I don't know if it's you guys or if the locals got there first. And suddenly I realize I don't want to die."

He shook his head and ran his hands through his hair, "You'd think I might have figured that out a year ago, huh? Some genius I am. It takes standing in front of a kid with a machine gun, and four handguns pointed at my back with more on the way for me to realize that I want to live. And not like I've been living for the past year. I want to do more then go through the motions, do my job and go home. I need to be more than _**a**_ _**good profiler**_, _**good at the job.**_"

"You do. You are."

"No, right now I'm not. It feels like every time I get back on my feet something else happens and I get knocked on my ass again. Charles killing me, me killing Charles and watching Tobias die, Gideon leaving. Then -- then when Jack shot Phillips -- the man shot a kid in front of a federal agent and not only does he not go to jail, the government gives him a whole new life? And Lindsey, what's she going to grow up like? 'Kill him, Daddy, kill him," I wake up hearing her voice begging her father to murder a man. I hear Phillips begging for his life. I see Phillips lying on the floor, I see Phillips lying on the floor begging for his life, then I see -- then he's not. He's not crying, he's not begging, he's not anything but a pile of blood and bones and brains splattered on a bathroom floor. I failed and somebody died."

"Reid, the man is a sociopath who doesn't care about anyone but his daughter. Phillips hurt his daughter, he killed Phillips, that's how he thinks. None of us could have talked him down. Not me, not Hotch or Rossi, not even Gideon could have gotten through to him. You didn't fail, you never had a chance."

"Maybe, maybe not, but I had an option."

"Not much of one."

He looked his friend in the eye, "Would _**you**_ have taken the shot?"

"I don't know, man. I really don't know. We didn't have all the information, you thought he was a loving father who just wanted to protect his baby. None of us knew what he was."

"We knew he was involved in the mob."

"We didn't know he was a hitman. We all thought low-level goon, a knee-breaker."

"But he wasn't. He wasn't, and a kid is dead --."

"You know that that kid was a murderer and a rapist."

"I know."

"Somebody in that room was going to die no matter what you did."

"You're right."

You did everything you could."

"That doesn't make any easier to live with."

"No, it doesn't."

"And it doesn't stop the nightmares. It doesn't stop the doubts. It doesn't stop the voice in the back of my head that keeps telling me it's never going to end, we're never going to stop all the bad guys, we're never going to save all the children."

"We all have a little voice like that."

"Yeah. I know, ego, super ego, id, conscience, morality, Maslow's hierarchy of needs, I know all the whats and the whys, I even know that given time it'll get better, but right now, it still hurts like hell."

"And that's why you started to implode again."

"That's why I started to implode. I wanted to stop thinking. I wanted to stop dreaming. I wanted to stop hurting. I wanted to escape. No, I want to escape. I want to stop feeling, remembering, thinking."

"But you can't."

He feels the tears prick at the backs of his eyes, hangs his head but fights them back, "You're wrong. You're so wrong. And that's the problem; I know exactly how to escape, exactly how to make the pain stop for a little while. I know exactly what street corner to go to, to get what I need. I know exactly who I need to talk to. And I know exactly what it would cost. And what it would cost me."

He picked his head up and held his friend's eyes, "All it would cost is a couple hundred bucks for an unopened bottle and a new needle and giving up everything good in my life: My job, my home, my mom, and most importantly, my friends. I _**could**_ do it, _**but I won't**_. I won't do that to myself or to my friends."

"So tell me how I can help."

"I put in for some time off, a couple weeks. Oddly enough Hotch didn't have any problem giving it to me."

"Yeah, he's a little mad, but he's mostly worried."

"I know. I thought for sure he was going to rip me a new one on the plane. Instead he tells me to 'catch the rest of my movie'."

"So, you going back?"

"Yeah. I figure with so many meetings at so many different times, I can probably get to three, sometimes four, a day. But I like the one I went to, I -- I, um, met someone there. He loaned me this," he pulled the one-year medallion from his pocket, "he told me to give it back when I get my own. I don't really understand why he did that, but -- but I touch it, I look at it, somehow it makes me feel a little better. I think -- I think knowing that he did it, that he turned his life around and became a success, it makes me _**feel**_ like I can do it too."

"That's good, man, that's really good. It sounds like you've got a good plan going there."

He nodded, "Yeah, I've been reading a lot of literature on recovery. One of the things they all have in common is support, family, friends."

"We're here for you, man. You know we are."

"I know. I'm kind of counting on it. I was wondering if you would do something for me."

"Name it."

"I -- I think I'm going to need to talk to someone. Not really about the meetings, and definitely not about work. Just anything else, movies, cars, sports, just anything."

"Yeah, I can do that."

"Every day?"

"Every single day. More if you need it."

"I'll understand if you can't. I mean cases, sometimes we don't get a break at all, so don't worry if you can't."

"Hey, I'll call. And if I can't call, I'll have JJ or Garcia do it. They usually wind up with a few minutes here and there."

"He smiled, "Thanks."

"Don't thank me too soon, you just might wind up hearing way too much about Kevin and Bill."

He sighed, "Well, as long as it has nothing to do with crime, I'll take it." He paused, "Those might be shorter conversations, though."

"So, when's your next meeting?"

"In twenty minutes," he nodded out the diner's window, "across the street, that's why I asked you to meet me here. I figured I'd head over as soon as we finished lunch."

"Well, looks like it's about time for you to head over then." There were already a few people heading inside.

He looked down at his plate, three lonely fries sat next to a pile of ketchup, the burger long gone. Funny, he'd been so nervous about what he was saying, he couldn't even remember eating his lunch. He pulled out his wallet and laid money on the table. "Yeah, I guess it's time." He smiled at his friend as he stood up, glad he didn't offer to 'come along,' this part, he needed to do alone. Later, later was when he would need to hear his friends' voices, but right now he needed to stand on his own two feet. He was on a long road, but he was going to take it one step at a time until he got where he was going.

Morgan watched out the diner window as his friend walked across the road. There was traffic and people and he wasn't wearing a bulletproof vest, but he could see that walking into that meeting took every bit as much courage as stepping onto that train in Texas had. He looked at his watch and decided he really didn't need to be anywhere today.

A.N.: This wasn't what I sat down to write, but I think some of the most emotional stories happen that way. Reviews are always welcome so let me know what you think about this one.


	15. You're What? How the Hell Did That Happ

Just a few scenes that WON'T appear on the show:

You're what?

How the hell did that happen?

Disclaimer: Usual disclaimers, I do not own any CM characters, I'm just borrowing them and will return them in the same condition as I found them.

Storyline Rules: There will be het smut, there may be violence, mention of drugs and sex crimes -- this is Criminal Minds. There may be mild sideline slash, but it will not involve any CM characters. All CM characters will remain true to character as I see them. All pairings will be introduced as they could naturally occur. This may be fantasy, but I will try my best to make sure anything presented as fact is accurate.

By now I think most every fan knows AJ/JJ is pregnant, tomorrow is the big reveal, so to tide us over, here's a few scenes that WON'T appear on the show:

Warnings: Mostly funny, but some angst, one severe (it is Criminal Minds), a couple slashy ones (but not even close to being explicit), romance, no smut whatsoever (sorry).

JJ clicked to the next picture, carefully not looking at the screen as she gave the morning briefing. Morgan asked a question and she turned to face him catching the screen out of the corner of her eye. Her stomach roiled at the sight of blood on the screen. The remote hit the floor as she bolted for the ladies' room.

Reid leaned over and whispered to Morgan, "Do you think JJ's okay? That's the third time this week she's been sick like that."

Morgan smirked at the kid's naiveté, "She'll be fine, Buddy."

&

JJ clicked to the next picture, carefully not looking at the screen as she gave the morning briefing. Morgan asked a question and she turned to face him catching the screen out of the corner of her eye. Her stomach roiled at the sight of blood on the screen. The remote hit the floor as she bolted for the ladies' room.

Hotch picked the remote up from the floor to continue the briefing.

"Aaron, aren't you going to talk to her? That's the third time this's happened."

"She'll talk to us when she's ready."

"But we can't let her go out in the field if she's --."

"Dave, please just leave it alone. As her supervisor, it's against labor law for me to ask her if she's pregnant. We'll just have to --." Hotch was interrupted by the soft thud of Reid's unconscious body hitting the floor.

&

"Spence, do you ever think about having kids?"

"Once in a while." His hands slowed, he loved rubbing lotion on JJ's naked back, but somehow it seemed to lead to some of their most serious conversations, "With Mom, I always used to think the risk was too high."

"Used to? Does that mean you've changed your mind?"

"Well, a new study just came out linking an increased risk of schizophrenia to toxoplasmosis. I had Bennington run some tests on her, she has it. So, I had my doctor check, I don't."

"So, you don't worry about it anymore?"

"No, I still worry. The study's too new and it hasn't been repeated, but I feel a little better."

"So, does that mean, you'd like a couple kids now?"

He leaned down and kissed her shoulder, "How about we start with one?"

&

Emily kissed JJ's hand as they waited for the results from the doctor. He walked into the office smiling, "Well, ladies, you're a lucky couple, the insemination took on the first try. You're going to be mommies."

&

"JJ, we can't thank you enough for doing this for us."

"Well, just remember, Auntie JJ gets to buy all the presents she wants, and if it's a girl, I'm explaining the birds and the bees to little Morgan or Spencer, Jr., not either of you. Spence'll put her to sleep with the biologicals, and you'd have her begging for a chastity belt before her first date."

Morgan smiled at her. Despite their differences - or maybe because of them - he knew he and Spence were going to be great fathers.

&

JJ froze as she felt the knife at her throat, "Don't make a sound or it'll be your last." How had he gotten past the guards in the hall? She concentrated on her one college physics course as she prayed the team would realize that baiting the unsub had worked before it was too late. They didn't.

&

The unsub lay riddled with bullets upstairs, not one of them had hesitated when he'd pulled a weapon. Prentiss entered the room first by unspoken agreement; she fought back tears at the sight that met her. JJ, huddled in the corner, shackled by an ankle to a small bed in the corner of the basement room. The single bare bulb provided just enough light to see the numerous bruises that proved she had fought back through her seven days of captivity. Slowly she approached the bed, "JJ, it's me Emily."

JJ jumped at the sound of her voice, but at least she looked up, made eye contact. Prentiss turned to the people waiting just outside the door, "Screw evidence, she needs something to wear."

Hotch didn't even hesitate as he pulled his vest off and unbuttoned his shirt. It wasn't much, but at least it was something. He didn't give a thought to ruining evidence, let the CSI guys worry about it later, the bastard was dead, they didn't need to worry about a conviction.

Prentiss took the shirt and approached JJ slowly. JJ flinched, but didn't make a sound as Prentiss helped her slip the white dress shirt on over her bruises.

"JJ, Reid has some lock picks, can he come in and get this chain off you?" Nobody had questioned why Reid had a set of lock picks sewn into the waistband of his corduroys, they were just thankful they wouldn't have to wait for a locksmith to free JJ. (Later Hotch would question the probably illegal tools. Later Reid would lie about them being part of his magic kit.)

"Ju -- just Spencer?"

"Just Spencer. Nobody else until you're ready, I promise." It was a promise she knew she might not be able to keep, but she had to make it anyway.

Reid stepped through the doorway, he approached the bed slowly. When he reached the edge of the bed, he knelt and spoke softly, "Okay, JJ, can I see your foot now?" It seemed like forever before she stretched her leg towards him. His hands shook, both in horror at what had happened to her and anger at the dead man upstairs. Despite the shaking, he made quick work of the simple lock and pulled his hands back from JJ's skin.

&

"Hey, Bill, how you doing?"

"Great. I love hearing from my favorite lady, but what's the special occasion, you never call during the work day?"

"Well, I needed to talk to you. You, um, remember what happened when you were up, a couple weeks ago?"

"Ma Cher, how could I forget?"

Not that. Well, yes, actually that. But you remember the _**other**_ thing that happened?"

"You mean the … when the … it broke? Does that mean … are you calling to tell me … Cher, are you pregnant?"

"Yeah."

"Wow."

"Yeah, 'wow' pretty much covers it."

"You're sure?"

"Yeah."

"Wow. You're not foolin'?"

"No."

"Wow."

"Yeah."

"Have you seen a doctor yet?"

"I'm there now. I just heard the heartbeat."

"Wow. I'll be on the first flight up. Wow. Wow. Wow."

&

Reid tapped on JJ's door and walked in. He absently noted the birth control compact and antibiotics bottle on her desk before she was able to sweep them into a drawer. "How's the sinus infection?"

"Better. The antibiotics are starting to work. I just wish they didn't upset my stomach so much."

Suddenly Reid's mind clicked. "JJ, isn't Bill in town?"

"Yeah, he flew up for the weekend. He goes home tomorrow night."

"Um," he could feel the blush starting at what he was about to say, but forged ahead anyway, "did you talk to your doctor about him?"

JJ looked at him in confusion, "Why would I talk to my doctor about my boyfriend?"

"Well, not so much about Bill, as about what the reaction between antibiotics and birth control pills."

"What?" JJ wasn't sure where this was going, but Reid definitely had that 'you aren't going to want to hear this' tone in his voice.

"Sometimes antibiotics negate birth control pills. Especially if they upset your stomach."

JJ paled, "That's not something to joke about, Reid."

He just looked at her.

"You're not joking?"

He shook his head slowly.

She just stared at him.

He started to back out of the room, "Maybe you should give your doctor a call?"

He closed the door behind him and headed to Garcia's office, this needed a woman's touch.

&

2:45 a.m.

"Okay, you two, last call."

"Lash call? Whash time ish it?"

"It's almost three a.m., Sweetie."

"Oh. Hey, Hosh, we need to find Mrgn 'n' Prenish. We need t'go home."

"Lady, your friends gave up, over an hour ago."

Hotch picked his head up from the bar, "J -- JJ, I don't think I should drive."

"Buddy, I'm gonna call you a cab."

"K." His head dropped back to the bar.

7:00 a.m.

Hotch slapped in the direction of the alarm clock, "I got it, Haley." He opened his eyes momentarily before slamming the lids closed against the light. Maybe if his head would stop pounding he could find the damned alarm clock and kill it. He heard a hand slam into the alarm clock, knocking it to the floor.

"God, I feel like hell." He needed to drag himself into work. Coffee. Coffee would help. He pulled himself to a sitting position, tried to swing his legs over the edge of the bed but met warm body instead - why was he on the wrong side?

"Okay, I'm up, don't kick."

Suddenly he recognized the voice, "JJ?!" Well, his eyes were open now.

"Hotch?!" He saw the blonde head pop up from under the other pillow. "What the hell are you doing here?"

Hangover or not, he couldn't let that one pass; he simply lifted the blanket enough to peek underneath.

"Oh, God."

"Coffee first, then talk or talk first, then coffee?"

JJ groaned, "Definitely coffee first."


	16. Incoherent

INCOHERENT

INCOHERENT

"Hey, Em, what're you doing?"

Emily pointed toward the bar where Reid sat talking to a beautiful young redhead.

"Whoa, how's that happen? He trip and land there or something?"

Emily laughed softly, "Pretty close."

"Come on, spill."

"Okay. I come in to wait for the team for dinner. I stop at the bar to get a drink and see Reid's already here, he's holding this table." Emily stops as she sees JJ enter the restaurant. She waves her over to the table.

"Is Reid actually talking to a girl? How'd that happen?"

"Okay. Let's try again, I come in to wait for the team for dinner. I stop at the bar to get a drink and see Reid's already here, he's holding this table. I'm about to wave to him when I notice he's all eyes for that pretty little thing over there."

"Yeah, but he never talks to them."

"I know, he always says he wouldn't know what to say. We hear that every time. 'they wouldn't like me,' 'what do I say?' 'I'd just make a fool of myself,' 'she's not interested.' Well, this time she's looking back, and I can tell she likes what she sees, baggy cords, sweater vest and all."

"So, he finally got up the nerve to go talk to her?" JJ could hardly believe her ears.

"Not exactly. I had to give him a little prod."

Morgan grinned, "What'd you do; threaten to set his pants on fire?"

"Nope, I took a slightly sneakier approach. I came over and sat down with my drink - you should have seen her, looked like her heart was breaking. You know how it is, you're eyeing some hot hunk and his girlfriend comes and sits down, she had that look."

"Oh, no. Poor Spence," JJ leaned forward, "What happened next?"

"I told him he should go talk to her. Of course he started with the usual." JJ was nodding along, Reid's lack of self-confidence with women was legendary. "So, I told him if he didn't go over and talk to her, I was going to invite her to have dinner with the team."

Morgan barely managed to hold in his burst of laughter at the thought of Reid's reaction to that.

"Yeah, I thought he was going to faint for a minute. He tried to call my bluff until I stood back up to go over and talk to her. I made it about two steps when he grabs my arm, pulls me back toward the table, and walks over."

"My, man, so what'd he say?"

He walks right up to her and says, 'Hi, you're Spencer Reid, I'm beautiful, can you buy me a drink?'"

Morgan wasn't able to stop the laughter this time. He stuffed his fist in his mouth in an unsuccessful attempt to keep Reid from hearing him.

JJ gasped, "Oh, my God, he didn't? What did she say?"

Emily smiled brightly, "She smiled like she'd just been given the best compliment in the world, giggled and said, 'Okay, Angela Jones, I'll buy the first round if you get the next. By the way I think I'm pretty good-looking, too."

The trio watched as Reid and Angela took their drinks and moved over to a table for two in a quiet corner of the restaurant.

"Well, it looks like our group is one short tonight. Did somebody finally hit the kid over the head or something?"

Hotch sat down next to Morgan, "Give him a break, Rossi, just because he doesn't have your ego …"

Rossi laughed, so he was a little chauvinistic, he was working on it, "Hey, I'm an Italian Stallion, what can I say?"

The group settled down to eat and to watch their youngest wine and dine and talk all night.


	17. Roswell

E

E.T.

A.N.: I've had this sitting on the back burner for a while, but today July 29, 2008, is NASA's 50th birthday, what better time could there be?

ROSWELL

Reid nearly leapt from his seat in excitement, "We're going to Roswell? You're serious, we are going to Roswell?"

"Reid, calm down, what's the big deal about Roswell?"

"You're kidding me, Morgan. Roswell, New Mexico?"

"Yeah?"

"Where the aliens crashed."

"Reid, you can't seriously believe there's a giant government conspiracy to cover up a bunch of aliens landing in the desert?"

"What? You can't tell me you think the government would issue a press release about it. People would panic. Especially back then."

"Yeah, all those pre-Star Trek folks, they might have actually thought all aliens are three feet tall, have green skin and were here to take over."

"Get real, Morgan, Star Trek is fantasy. There's no way in just four hundred years that the human race is going to have evolved enough to peacefully co-exist with other races without some outside threat forcing a truce. And the whole thing with parallel dimensions and time travel is scientifically implausible."

"But you think aliens coming here is logical?"

"Absolutely." Reid felt more than saw JJ and Emily coming up behind him, he thought about stopping, letting Morgan win the argument, rather than continuing, but he was tired of Morgan 'dissing' his science fiction interests, plus he was right and he could prove it. He casually moved his chair forward between the two desks - Morgan was going to have to go over him, if he wanted out.

"Listen to this, guys, Reid's gonna tell why he thinks there's aliens in New Mexico."

Reid took a deep breath in preparation, "That's not what I said, Morgan. I said there's no logical or scientific reason to assume it couldn't happen." He looked up to see Rossi and Hotch lean over the railing to the upper level. Ignoring his audience he focused on Morgan, "Pick a theory of evolution."

"What?"

"There's three major theories of evolution: Darwinism or the big bang theory, survival of the fittest; Creationism, God made us, then gave us free will and let us develop on our own; and Intelligent Design, God made us, and continued to shaped evolution through the millennia."

He looked around at his audience, noticing a few non-BAU agents gathering around, "Okay. Let's start with big bang. The whole world started with a big explosion, particles combined and formed life. We started with single-celled amoeba-like organism which eventually evolved into life as we know it, birds, fish, reptiles, amphibians and mammals, all being very different, but at the same time very similar." He raised his hand and ticked off the similarities on his fingers, "We all need oxygen, water, food, we're carbon-based. Our existence is based on what the planet provides.

"Now, look up in the sky on any clear night - how many stars are there? Billions.

How could it be even remotely possible that there's no other planets around any of those stars? It's not. Scientists have already found several, and we've only developed the technology and methodology to even look a few years ago.

"So, now we have multiple planets around multiple suns. If life forms to suit the environment, then how could it be possible that this is the only planet it's happened on? Maybe they're silicon-based and breathe nitrogen, who knows? The point is, it's ridiculous to think that billions of stars would only have one planet capable of sustaining life."

He looked around again, the expressions around him ranged from amused, Hotch and Rossi; to incredulous, the guy standing in back from questioned documents; to doubting his sanity, Morgan.

"Now, that we've established that according to Darwinism, there must be life on other planets, we need to take a look at Earth's history. Evolution was set back a couple million years when the asteroid struck the Yucatan Peninsula and wiped out most of the life on the planet. If it wasn't for that, dinosaurs might have developed opposable thumbs and gone on to rule the earth. Then throw in the Great Flood, which evidence shows was actually a series of small floods that decimated communities, but 'it' happened early enough in history that it affected all of a given culture's _**known**_ world - remember that whole Earth-is-flat theory? People used to think they could see all of it, so if it was all wet, then the whole world had been flooded. And civilization developed in flood plains, it's where the best growing soil is, floods happen. So, anyway, there have been several other natural disasters that have set back the scientific progress of the species.

"So, now we've established that life must have formed on at least some of the other planets that we've already established are out there, so if those planets have had fewer or less significant natural disasters it's only logical that some of the species living on those planets would have developed intelligence, and therefore without the setbacks we've suffered could very well be more technologically advanced than we are.

"The next obstacle is the distance from Earth to the nearest stars.

"Disregarding Methusela and Nicholas Flammel, because accurate timekeeping methods hadn't been deveolped yet, the oldest recorded human was Jean Louise Calment, who was 122 years old when he died in 1997. Actuaries have determined that because of advances in healthcare, people alive today may routinely begin to live to 150 in this century. And that is not accounting for the advent of cloning replacement parts, which since the first stem cells have just been created from skin cells, we'll probably have down pat in the next hundred years or so, as aggressive as science in that area is, maybe twenty to fifty.

"So, again figuring in our evolutionary setbacks, these other planets may have had millions of years longer to develop medical techniques to extend their life spans, therefore a 200-year-or-more lifespan isn't unrealistic.

"We have vehicles that can break the sound barrier in the atmosphere, with the right mechanical systems and fuel sources, that could be topped in space. With our current technology it would take decades years to get to the nearest star. However, NASA encourages its scientists to develop ideas for _**warp **_drive. Yes, that's a Star Trek term, but NASA kind of adopted it, since it's in common use anyway. There's a couple of promising theories out there, the big hold-up is the fuel supply. It pretty much has to be nuclear, but there's a planetary ban on nuclear testing - Catch-22 - and the payload would have to be larger than the spacecraft itself, so it needs to be built in space. Granted that's quite a commitment, but under certain circumstances the benefits would far outweigh the costs."

"What benefits?"

"Habitable space. Earth is becoming overpopulated. NASA didn't launch those probes to Mars just so they could look at the pretty rocks, you know. Earth is running out of resources and if we don't reverse global warming, air and land pollution, and deforestation, this planet isn't going to be habitable for much longer. Some estimates say there's less than a hundred years until all our usable landfill space is used up. Think about that the next time you debate whether it's worth it to wash out your soup can or recycle the newspaper.

"Before long we're going to be faced with mandatory birth control for everybody or colonization." He smirked at Morgan, "Take your pick: Moon, Mars or get snipped?"

"Yeah, so what are you gonna pick?"

"Hey, benefit of being a genius. They're gonna need my offspring to organize the colonization."

"You wish. They're gonna need muscles, you're scrawny little ass is going to be stuck in some brain trust here, and I'll be off populatin' a brave new world."

Reid mentally conceded a tie on that point and continued, "Anyway we've now established that theoretically extra-terrestrial life is not only possible, it's probable, shall we move on to Creationism and Intelligent Design?"

"Sure. Dazzle me."

Reid smiled and leaned forward, "Okay, 'In the beginning --."

"You are _**not**_ quoting the entire Bible to me."

"Shut up and listen. In the beginning God said, 'Let there be light and there was light.' So, God created the world, including billions of stars, with planets, in six days; what's he been doing since then?

"I mean, seriously, how xenocentric do you have to be to believe that God would create the Heavens and the Earth, all those stars, planets, galaxies, thousands of species here on this one little planet and that's it? He's all done?

"With all that power, He created only one species capable of sentient thought? Why bother with the rest of the Universe, if he's only going to hang out in this one little neighborhood? If this was all there is, then He would have made Earth and stopped there. If there's nothing out there, there's no logical reason to create it, it's like building a fifty-room mansion with the intention of living alone.

"So, long story short, it's not only possible that there's sentient life on other planets, it's logical. The only question is whether they're more advanced when it comes to space travel than we are."

"So, you really think we're going to meet an alien in Roswell?"

"Nope, my college girlfriend lives there, I want to stop in and see her while we're town."

"You had a girlfriend in college?? Now, that's science fiction."


	18. Reasonable Purchases

Disclaimer: Usual disclaimers, I do not own any CM characters, I'm just borrowing them and will return them in the same condi

Disclaimer: Usual disclaimers, I do not own any CM characters, I'm just borrowing them and will return them in the same condition as I found them.

Author's Note: I, like everyone else who saw the season finale, will be biting my nails until September 24th when we find out exactly who was injured in the explosion and how badly; however, since I do specialize in suspending reality, until September, my team is all alive and well, and on their way to either a good night's sleep or to a secondary location to pull a serious all-nighter and catch the !#& who tried to blow up one of our people.

So, on to the fic:

REASONABLE PURCHASES

"JJ, you couldn't wait till we got back to D.C. to get this stuff?"

Morgan and Rossi were pushing the large carton, while Will pulled from above. Reid, after stepping on Morgan's foot (the second time) had been banished to a safe fifteen feet away from the bottom of the plane's retracting stairs, while Hotch, recovering from his injuries, but still not up to snuff, was already safely ensconced aboard the plane.

"Oh, come on, Sweet Stuff, you know New York has the best stores." Garcia stood a few feet in front of Reid, holding three suit jackets, which had been shed after the first carton had been carried up the stairs.

Morgan would have sworn he heard a chuckle from Rossi at his mumbled response, which he'd never let his Baby Girl actually hear.

"Come on, Morgan, if you'd quit yapping and push, we'd be on the plane already."

Prentiss wasn't guarded by his protective instincts, "Yeah, let's see you haul a couple of these boxes around."

"Sure. Once you three get out of the way, I'll bring the lamps up."

If he'd had a hand free he would have responded in sign language, but as this was the largest (and heaviest) of the boxes, he didn't dare.

Morgan didn't know it, but that was a good thing. JJ stood quietly next to Garcia with her arms folded over her abdomen in what seemed to be their new home. She had hoped that being a tough, no-nonsense FBI agent would save her from the mood swings she had seen plague her aunts and cousins:

She had managed not to burst into tears when Will had shown up in New York and announced that he'd asked her to marry him (the big sneak).

She had misted a little when she opened the package containing his badge and unspoken offer/statement of intention? to quit his job to be with her and the baby (God, the guy must really love her to put up with her stubbornness and insecurities).

She'd shed a few tears when she'd returned to her hotel room (which Hotch was turning a blind eye to the fact that she was sharing with Will, strictly against regulations) and was met by dozens of photos of baby furniture displayed on a laptop he had borrowed from Garcia. He must have spent hours shopping while she was working. He'd taken pictures of everything he'd liked, and from the looks on his face, several things he didn't. Disney characters, little Noah's Ark animals, circus motifs, teddy bears, angels, sports. When she'd seen this set she'd fallen in love instantly.

But if Morgan made one more complaint about getting her baby's dresser onto the plane, she just might lose it altogether, sit on the tarmac and bawl her eyes out. Maybe she should have been a little more forthcoming when she'd said she needed to pick up a few things on the way to the airport. But really it was only a few things. Just the crib, the changing table and the dresser. And of course, she'd needed the matching rocker/glider and ottoman, it was a set. Then it had just seemed wrong not to get the lamp tables to go next to the chair and the crib, she'd need them anyway. And the two lamps weren't big _**or**_ heavy.

Will looked over at JJ, Cajuns tended to have large families, so he'd been around more than his fair share of pregnant women, and he recognized the look on JJ's face, "Morgan," he mumbled just loud enough to be heard at the other end of the box he was lifting, "you know I like ya an' all, but if you make JJ cry, I'm gonna be obligated to do somethin' about it. We don't either of us want that. So, why don't you stop yappin' and push?"

"You know, LaMontagne, this is all your fault. First you get JJ pregnant, then you _**go shopping**_ for her. And now, I'm the bad guy."

"Morgan, I am an uncle six times over, and speaking from experience, you do not want to get on the wrong side of JJ's hormones. You have to work with her until she goes on maternity leave, when it's your turn to pick up lunch and she wants a salmon burrito you will talk the deli into fixing her a salmon burrito." Rossi hissed his words as he shoved the box even harder, the extra impetus, being enough to get the box onto the plane.

"When she shows you the sonogram pictures, you will look at the little black and white lima bean and exclaim about how cute it is, and that you can see the little fingers and toes, then you'll ask if the doctor said whether it was a boy or girl. And when she hears a noise in the middle of the night and calls you because Will isn't there, you will go, you will check all the closets and under the bed and in the backyard.

"And under no circumstances are you to criticize any request or decision she makes for the next nine months."

"Six, she said she's already three months along."

"No, Morgan, nine - postpartum depression."

"Shit. I really am going to have to kill you, LaMontagne."

Rossi guided the dresser to the left side of the plane over the wings, where its weight would be balanced out against the other items on the right side. "Not until after JJ's hormones stabilize. Trust me, it wouldn't be worth it to do it now."

Morgan looked to the door of the plane and nodded, remembering the hourly phone calls Hotch had received while Haley was pregnant. "Don't mess with the pregnant lady, got it."

Rossi went up front to talk to the pilots and have them come back to check the weight distribution of JJ's purchases before take-off. Luckily Tom and Jake were flying this time around, they were much better natured than Mike and Eddy.

Tom and Jake came back and were just finishing tightening a length of cargo strapping down over the crib when Emily and Garcia entered the passenger cabin each carrying a boxed lamp, JJ following, and Reid bringing up the rear carrying their jackets. Jake stood up and dusted off his hands, "That should do it. It's a good thing you called ahead about loading some extra fuel, but I have to say I'm kinda surprised, none of you has ever brought half this much stuff back with you before. Not to mention the extra passenger."

Rossi heard JJ sniffle and spun around, panicked. He'd already labeled Will a consultant on the case in order to let him fly back with the team, but hadn't had time to figure out how to justify the extra weight of the baby furniture.

"Actually," Reid, ever ready with random information, spouted, "All the regulations state is that agents are allowed to transport reasonable purchases on return flights."

"I'm pregnant," JJ sniffed again, "Baby furniture is a reasonable purchase."


	19. Reservations

RESERVATIONS

RESERVATIONS

"Hi, this is Agent Jareau with the FBI, I need to reserve seven rooms."

"Certainly, Ma'am. When do you need them?"

"We should be arriving in a few hours, but I'm not sure when we'll be able to check in. We may need you to hold the rooms."

"Certainly Ma'am. If you want a guaranteed hold, we can do that. Your account will be charged automatically at seven p.m. How long will you need the rooms for?"

"I'm not sure. Just leave the checkout date open."

"Certainly, Ma'am. Is there anything else I can help you with?"

"Yes, the team has some special requests. First, if at all possible, we'd like adjoining rooms, at the very least all on the same hall."

"Just one moment, let me check." JJ heard computer keys clacking in the background. "We can accommodate that. We have three on one side of the hall, four on the other."

"Perfect. Please put Agents Hotchner, Rossi, Morgan and Reid on one side, and Agents Prentiss, Garcia and Jareau on the other. Agent Hotchner would like an end room if possible."

"Certainly, Ma'am. Anything else?"

"Yes, Agent Garcia will need Internet access and an extra bathrobe in her room."

"Yes, Ma'am."

"And Agent Reid will need extra blankets and a coffeemaker."

More clicking, "All right."

"Agent Morgan will need extra towels."

"Anything else?"

"Agent Rossi would like six a.m. wake-up calls."

"Okay. Next?" JJ could hear the smile in the reservation agent's voice - of course there was a next.

"Agent Prentiss needs extra pillows."

"And for you, Ma'am?"

"I'll need a radio tuned to the local station. If you have a news station tune it to that, please. And we'll all take any brochures you have for the local restaurants and delivery places."

"Everything will be ready for you when you arrive, Ma'am. I hope you enjoy your stay with us."


	20. Memories

MEMORIES

"So, Mozart was your favorite?"

"What?"

"Come on, Kid, what you said on the plane; you preferred Mozart."

"Well, he's a little more mellow, Beethoven's louder, I mean listen to his 5th Symphony, that's scary when you're not expecting it. The waltzes were always a lot more soothing."

"And you remember all that?"

"What? No, not like that. I mean how could I have known the names and composers? I remember the sounds and the moods. You know, loud/scary, soft/happy, slow/sleepy. It's all pretty vague, it's more I remember hearing them later and knowing that I liked that one, or didn't like the other."

"How much later?"

"Hmm? I don't know. Kids don't keep track of that kind of thing."

"Come on, it's not like I'm going to laugh at you about it."

"Why not? You find the rest of my life funny."

"Hey, you know I don't mean anything by all that. I tease because I like you, it's just the way I interact with people."

"I know. But I'm still not sure I want to give you any more ammunition."

"Come on, we all already know your memory's amazin', what am I going to do with that fact that I don't already?"

"I don't really want to know."

"It's a simple question; how far back can you really remember?"

"Well, it's really misty, cloudy, but I do have this one very early memory: I start out all comfortable and floaty, it's dark and quiet, I'm snuggled in really tight, and I'm just happy, no worries, no fears, everything's right with my world.

"Then all of a sudden snuggly turns to squished and it's a little hard to breathe, but it's okay because I don't really need to breathe and it's happened before and it always goes away. It does go away, but it comes back. And then it comes back again.

"I try to stretch, I like to stretch and wave my arms and kick my legs, it always makes me happy, but now it's hard to move, everything is just tight. Then I realize I'm moving, but I'm not doing it and I don't understand what's going on. This has never happened before and I don't like it.

"The tightness and the squeezing keep getting worse and worse, and I feel my head being crushed and I'm terrified. I don't know what dying is, but if I did I'd think that's what was happening.

"I cry, but I don't make any sound. But there is sound, a lot of it. I hear a muffled screaming, and two voices I know and lots of voices I don't. And a strange beeping, it's rhythmic, but I don't like it, it's annoying, not soothing. And I can't identify the pattern, it goes fast, then it goes faster, then it's only fast again. It matches the feeling in my chest, fast, then faster, then just fast.

"I'm unhappy: I want my sleepy sounds back. I want my floating back. Most of all I want the squeezing to stop.

"Then the pressure on my head stops and it's so bright, I've never seen so much light, it hurts my eyes and I squeeze them shut. I'm hurt and scared and I want to cry, but I can't breathe in to do it.

"Then suddenly all the squeezing is over and I'm loose and I'm going to fall. Something's keeping me from falling, but I don't know what it is. I'm not even sure what falling is, but I know I don't want to do it.

"I'm so scared. I can breathe again, but it feels funny, not right. I cry and now I'm making noise. A lot of noise. It's weird I've never made noise before. I have a voice.

"And it's so cold. I've never felt cold like that before. Then there's a new feeling, rubbing. It feels nice. And I start getting warmer, but I'm still all loose, I want the snuggly feeling back.

"Then it does come back, and it's warm. So, now I'm warm and snuggly, but I'm being moved again and I'm a little afraid of the falling feeling, but not as much as before.

"I stop crying, mostly because I'm just too tired to do it any longer. I'm tired and I want to sleep, but there's so much light and everything's so loud and there's so many voices.

"Then I recognize the two voices I know. They're louder than they used to be. But the rest of the voices start to go away and it's just me and the voices I know.

"So, now I know the voices, and I'm warm and snuggly, and the falling feeling is going away. I open my eyes and the light's not quite as bright as it was. I see two faces; these are the voices I know. I feel safe. I close my eyes again and go to sleep."

"Man, that's --."

"Uh-huh."

"You remember being born?"

"You don't?"

"Reid, I'm serious, do you really remember that?"

"Jeez, Morgan. Can't you tell when someone's pulling your leg? Of course, I don't remember being born. Mom told me I always quieted down when she played Mozart and kicked like crazy for Beethoven. And I've read everything I can get my hands on about pregnancy and birth since I found out about JJ, so faking that was easy. And you tell me I'm gullible."

AN: I have to wonder which way the writer's really did mean that, but after having trouble deciding whether his nightmare was caused by a memory from age four or his imagination, I decided on this ending for Reid's last word on the subject. Hope you liked it.


	21. Backwoods Directions

BACKWOODS DIRECTIONS

The third time they drove down a mile-long driveway thinking it must be the turn they were looking for Hotch decided it was time to give up and ask for directions. He turned the motor off and motioned JJ to come with him as he approached the rickety old farmhouse (it might be sexist, but if a male was behind that door JJ was sure to get better results than he would, and if it was a woman, JJ's presence would put her at ease.) He knocked firmly, wanting to be heard wherever the house's occupants happened to be.

He put his friendliest smile on face as he heard footsteps approaching accompanied by a wizened old voice hollering, "keep your britches on, I'm comin', but if you're some kinda salesman, you'd better start runnin' now."

The old man who opened the door looked about a hundred and ten, thin, white haired and wrinkled, but he still had his own teeth, half of them anyway. It was definitely a good thing he'd brought JJ to the door, her prettiness would offset his suit.

The man took one look at him and pronounced, "I already got me a Bible, so skedaddle."

"Sir," JJ spoke before he had a chance to respond, "we're not salespeople, we're lost." Hotch noted she had her 'soothe the unfriendly local cops' smile on. "We're looking for Jonas Thompson."

"What you lookin' for Jonas for?"

"I'm afraid we have some news for him, sir. The kind that needs to be delivered in person." JJ was pushing regulations by saying that much, but Hotch was sure nothing less would get them the information they needed. They'd already been warned that "most of the locals had grown up on stories of moonshiners versus revenuers and didn't take kindly to the law."

"Is this about Kelly?"

"Sir," JJ spoke gently, letting the man guess that, indeed, it was about Thompson's runaway daughter, "We really can't give anybody any information until we've spoken to Mr. Thompson himself."

"Yeah. Yeah, I understand."

"It would help us a lot if you could give us directions to his place."

The old man nodded, "Go back out the driveway, and take a left."

JJ and Hotch nodded to let him know they were listening. "You're gonna drive past Johnson's big ol' red barn."

"Yes, sir."

"Keep going, but watch out for Murphy's dumb-ass dog, he's gonna come right out in front of ya and if'n ya slow down, he'll run in front of ya all day long. Don't know why he ever bought the fuzzball, damn thing's got more fur than brains."

Hotch politely continued listening as the man gave the strangest directions he'd ever heard and debated whether to try again at the next driveway or just head back to the local station and get one of the locals to come with them. Of course, this was a very rural area; 'town' was a little over fifty miles away.

He watched as JJ continued nodding, pretending to understand each and every nuance of the oddball directions. The old man finished giving directions and headed back into the house to "rest his lumbago" (someday he'd find out exactly what that was).

He turned to head back to the SUV and saw JJ standing with a gleam in her eye and her hand held out for the keys. Without a word he dug the keys out of his pocket and handed them over.

He got into the passenger's side and cracked the window before closing the door to prevent the pressure change that after a month still hurt like hell at times. (Which was why he was going on a routine hospitalization notification with JJ, instead of running down leads with the rest of the team.

He sat quietly as JJ revved the engine more than she should be doing to a company vehicle and shot out of the driveway. He grabbed the overhead panic handle as he remembered why they never let JJ drive. She enjoyed it way too much, especially in the country with no traffic.

He noted she swung her head back and forth looking for the landmarks the old man had given. Suddenly she pointed at a huge pile of what he would have felt generous calling scrap wood. "There's Johnson's barn, watch out for the dog I don't want to hit it."

"JJ, that's not a barn, it's a pile of old lumber."

"It's a pile of faded red lumber, Hotch. Trust me it used to be a barn. It probably collapsed in the snow last winter." She slammed on the brakes as a big red chow shot into the road beside them. It quickly took advantage of their reduced speed and ran into the middle of the lane and barked at them over its shoulder.

"Damn it. I should have asked what to do if it got in front of us."

They traveled slowly for a quarter mile before JJ decided to drive a little faster to see if the animal would move aside. Luckily it did and Hotch watched it run behind the vehicle as JJ returned to her normal, nearly suicidal, country speed. He tried not to laugh as he heard her mutter, "dumb-ass dog," under her breath. He heartily agreed.

He thought he might be getting the hang of things when he saw the spotted hindquarters of the 'loosa horse standing at the corner of another unmarked road, "I think we turn here, JJ." He grabbed the panic handle again as he realized, she wasn't going to slow down to turn, as much as throw the rear into a controlled skid and keep going at speed.

He spotted an old bridge up ahead and wondered whether that was the cardboard bridge they had to go over. His suspicion was confirmed when his teeth were nearly rattle out of his head as JJ called out joyfully, "okay, here's the corrugated bridge." Hotch ran the association through his mind, steel-deck bridge, corrugated bridge, cardboard, perfectly logical.

Hotch tried not to be too surprised at the four headstones inside a white picket fence that JJ announced must be the Miller's old family cemetery. His shoulder bounced off the window as JJ 'turned' onto the dirt road and finally slowed down to highway speed. Now, if she'd only slow down to a reasonable speed he'd be in Heaven.

"Okay, start looking for the wishing well in the front yard."

"Any clue what a 'wishing well' is going to look like?"

"Sure, it's probably about three by three by three, with a roof on two support poles and, if we're lucky, a real bucket with a crank handle. Nobody uses them much anymore, but they are convenient when the power goes out."

Hotch shook his head in confusion, "you use a wishing well when the power goes out?"

"You use the bucket when the power goes out. The well house is to keep the kids from taking the cover off and falling in."

Hotch remained silent in his confusion, in his experience drilled wells weren't big enough for anything to fall in, although he did know of that one baby that had fallen into a well some years ago, but --.

JJ seemed to note his confusion anyway, "It's an old farmhouse, it's a dug well, it's big enough for a grown man to climb down in. Think Little House on the Prairie."

Hotch nodded, still confused, he knew what Little House on the Prairie was, but had been too old for the television show when it came on, and had never read the books it was based on.

He grabbed for the panic handle again as JJ slammed on the brakes, "There it is."

Hotch pulled the useless directions from the pocket of his suit coat and confirmed the number painted on the mailbox was correct. JJ pulled into the driveway and smiled at Hotch, "Let's go tell Mr. Thompson we found his daughter and he's a grandpa."

AN: Just a bit of fun. And that dumb-ass dog is real.


	22. Giving Thanks

Author's Note: I'm a little late, but I started it on Thanksgiving, that counts; right?

GIVING THANKS

6:00 a.m.

The sound of running steps drew him from sleep a mere second before the small body launched itself onto his stomach, "Daddy, Daddy, Daddy, get up, get up. Up, Daddy, up." Hotch smiled at his son as he lifted him straight up in a traditional airplane pose. "Up, up, up. Me fly."

When his arms started to weaken he pulled the small boy down to blow raspberries against his belly. "You want to go wake up Uncle Sean?"

"Yeah. Me wake, me wake."

Hotch stood up and went to his dresser to pull out a pair of jeans as he listened to Jack invade the guest room, resulting in another round of "me fly"s. He pulled on his t-shirt and headed barefoot for the kitchen.

When Sean had first announced his intentions to become a chef, Hotch had thought it was a huge mistake, he looked around at the preparations his brother had made last night and remembered the fun they'd had just getting ready to get ready to cook and thanked God he had pulled his head out of his ass before he had damaged his relationship with his brother, especially over something as inconsequential as his career choice.

7:00 a.m.

A few miles away JJ smiled as Will brought Henry to her to nurse. She thought about the day ahead, her doctor had approved most of the traditional Thanksgiving she loved, nixing any of Will's Cajun dishes for fear of upsetting the baby's tiny tummy. Oddly enough planning the meal had convinced her that she and Will truly had a bright future together - as a loving couple, not just as parents - they had managed to blend Pennsylvanian and New Orleans' traditions, taking into account what JJ could and couldn't eat while breastfeeding and what her family would expect.

She had been sure that she and Henry would be fine, but her mom and Will had managed to convince her to let her family come to them for their first holiday as a family. She glanced at the bedside clock and realized that they needed to get the turkey in the oven soon if it was going to be ready for one o'clock. She expected everyone to be starving after the four-hour drive and didn't want to disappoint.

She'd nearly panicked when she thought about her family seeing her new home before she'd had time to fully decorate, but when her father had promised he and her brother would teach Will how to fix the leaky shower head after dinner she'd given in. The men had only met once before, and while they had gotten along well, having a project to work on would certainly help the three bond.

In fact, she'd considered creating a few more projects for her men to bond over, but had refrained, not wanting her father to feel Will wasn't going to be able to take care of her. She might be a fully-trained FBI agent, but she'd always be 'Daddy's little girl.'

She silently thanked God for the unconditional love of her family and the fact that she'd decided to let Will fully into her life.

Will watched his hopefully future wife nurse their child and thought about the day ahead. JJ's parents and her brother, his wife and their children would be coming later today. They would all have their first holiday together in their new home. He was especially looking forward to showing off his newborn son.

She would never tell him, but he _knew_, that her fear of commitment had nearly brought her to break up with him rather than 'trap' him with her pregnancy. He didn't know what had happened to bring her around, but he thanked God she hadn't cut him out of her life.

8:00 a.m.

Morgan and Clooney returned from their morning run to be greeted by a blinking light on his home answering machine, the one he kept just for his tenants. He pressed the button, "Mr. Morgan, this is Irena Rodriguez. I hate to call you on Thanksgiving, especially so early, but my stove stopped working and if I can't cook Thanksgiving dinner the kids will be so disappointed. I was hoping you could get somebody to come over here and look at it."

Morgan hit the callback button and after a few questions promised Mrs. Rodriguez he'd be there in thirty minutes. He employed a property manager from sheer necessity, but he enjoyed getting out and interacting with his tenants when he was able. He jumped into the shower for a quick rinse before heading for the door. He had his hand on the knob when a thought hit him and he made a quick side trip to his storage closet.

He pulled in front of Mrs. Rodriguez's small three-bedroom house at exactly eight-thirty and hopped out of the car. He took the box from the backseat and grabbed Clooney's leash. Mrs. Rodriguez had three little ones and Clooney loved kids. He knocked quietly on the front door, if the kids weren't up yet, he didn't want to wake them.

"Mr. Morgan, thank you for coming so quickly."

"Hey, no problem. It's all part of the job. Do you mind if Clooney comes in, I thought the kids might like to play with him while I work on the stove." Just then a small face peeked around the corner and screeched with joy at the sight of the big, happy dog. Mrs. Rodriguez opened the door wider to invite them in.

Morgan looked around the small but clean home and smiled, looks like the Rodriguez's had settled in well. He followed the young mother to the kitchen and noted the turkey sitting in a roasting pan waiting to go in the oven, which probably wouldn't be fixed anywhere near time to cook the bird for a noontime meal. He placed the box on the countertop, took his pocketknife out and slit the tape holding it shut.

"I figured you could probably use this to get that turkey going." He pulled the electric roaster from the box, "My mom gave this to me for Christmas four years ago and I haven't even opened the box yet." He handed her the small instruction pamphlet that fell out, "Think you can figure out how to use it, while I work on the stove?"

"I can't take this, Mr. Morgan. Your Maman gave it to you."

"And my Mama meant for it to get used. With my job I don't even use the crock-pot she got me for my birthday the year before that. I'm afraid I'll get called in and either forget to turn it off and come home to a charcoal house, or turn it off but not put it in the fridge and come home to a big pot of chili growing a fur hat. If you take it off my hands, you'll actually be doing me a favor, it's just taking up space I could use for something else."

He looked at the small pamphlet, "Oh, look right there's it's got instructions for how to do a turkey. You get it set up, while I take a look at the stove."

Morgan halted any further argument by opening the oven door and sticking his head inside to check for any obvious problems. He held back a chuckle as he heard Mrs. Rodriguez move the roaster to a better place on the countertop and transfer the turkey into it.

He spotted the problem easily and headed out to his vehicle for his toolbox. He should be able to fix the stove inside of an hour. As he turned back to the house he sent up a silent prayer, thanking the God he had so recently reconciled with that he was in a position to help the young widow make a great Thanksgiving for her family.

9:00 a.m.

Reid smiled at his mother across the table. He'd waited all night at the airport on standby just hoping for a seat to open up. She smiled back at him, greeting him warmly and made it all worth it.

He handed her the small gift he had brought along, a picture his father had sent him of Reid and Diana sitting on he couch of their old house reading a book that was almost as large as the then-six-year-old Spencer had been. His father had had a copy made for himself and sent Reid the original and Reid had asked Garcia to blow it up to eight-by-ten size and Prentiss had picked out a frame for it.

He didn't know that Garcia had spent nearly two hours tweaking it with her Photoshop program; he just knew the eight-by-ten seemed to look better than the original. He did know that Morgan, who had the best relationship with his mother of anyone he knew, had assured him that his mother would love it.

He watched cautiously while she opened it, hoping for a good reaction, braced for a bad one. She looked at it, "Spencer, it's beautiful. Where did you find it?"

He spoke cautiously, "Dad sent me the original and my friend Garcia enlarged it for me. Do you remember Garcia; you met once?"

"Oh, yes. She the colorful one with all the computers; right?"

"Yes, yes, that's Garcia."

"That's wonderful. And it was very thoughtful of your father to send you this. You should go visit him while you're in town."

"I --" he had vaguely considered doing that, "I wanted to spend the day with you."

"Oh, just go for an hour or two. You two should catch up."

"All right. If you're sure you don't mind?"

"Call him now. See if he'll meet you for lunch. Then you can come back here and tell me al about it."

Reid dialed the number he had memorized a mere month ago and whispered a quiet thank you to his mother, and maybe to someone a little higher, he had a wonderful loving mother, magnificent friends, and maybe, if he could force himself to open up, he had a chance to reconnect with his father.

10:00 a.m.

Garcia poured more another batch of potatoes into the industrial mixer on the countertop and flipped the switch. Carefully she added the ingredients to create mashed potatoes for a thousand. Every holiday her church and two others borrowed the kitchens of the local high school and provided a hot meal for the poor and she was proud to be one of the ringleaders.

She loved that every morsel of food and every minute of help was donated. Not one person was here because they had to be, they all wanted to be there:

Morgan would be showing up later to help with the clean-up - he refused to go anywhere near the cooking end of things, but was a wiz with the industrial dishwasher. Emily had overseen the high school volunteers last night setting up the tables and was going to try to come by between lunch with her father and dinner with her mother. Hotch and his hottie brother Sean would be coming over after Hotch dropped Jack off at Haley's.

Rossi had been noncommittal but she had a strong feeling she'd be seeing him before the day was through. Reid had called earlier to let her know he'd been able to get a flight out after all, so he couldn't come this time. And of course JJ was a bit busy this year, you know, recovering from childbirth.

She was even more pleased that this year she had wrangled a new helper. Kevin looked adorable in his little chef's apron trying to figure out the best way to peel a squash with removing any fingers. She took pity on him and grabbed Cheryl to continue mashing potatoes and went over to show him the proper (meaning safest) way to peel the tough-skinned vegetable.

Once she had him settled and was assured he'd still have all his digits when she returned, she left the industrial kitchen to check the dining area. She looked around with satisfaction at the tables already set with the salt, pepper and butter; later they would add the tureens of gravy, as well as pitchers of milk, juice and carafes of coffee. She checked that the signs showing where to return dirty dishes and where to dump the trash were still clearly posted.

Next she moved over to the classroom nearest the cafeteria and gazed in amazement at the stacks and stacks of blankets and sleeping bags piled up against the walls. The delivery men had even kept them sorted, the young boys' bags were along the rear wall, with the young girls' bags next to them, then teen boys' and girls' along the next wall, adult sleeping bags and a variety of warm blankets along a third wall.

She couldn't be sure, but she had a feeling that the 'anonymous donation' just might be the result of a conversation she'd had at the beginning of the month with a certain millionaire author who still had the drive of a new agent. He'd come into her office and commented on the basket of hat/mitten/scarf sets next to her desk. She'd explained that she and several of the other church ladies knit all year long to be able to ensure that every person who walked through the doors on Thanksgiving would walk out with a set. She was working on preteen girl sets that week and he'd commented on the wide variety of colors.

He'd certainly asked enough questions to account for the fact that the number of each type of sleeping bag or blanket exactly matched the number of boys, girls and adults they anticipated arriving today.

She sent a prayer to the Man above for her family and friends, the new love in her life, and for that life itself, which she had come so close to losing. "It's the Most Wonderful Time of the Year" came on, piped through the wireless speakers that Kevin had set up this morning; it really, really is she thought.

11:00 a.m.

David Rossi looked at the Caller-ID window on his cell phone - Galen. He smiled widely as he answered. These calls may be few and far between, but he treasured each and every one. He listened as Connie told him about the new developments in their lives; he smiled when she mentioned the mysterious scholarship she had received to the local community college.

Seemed somebody had distributed flyers at her place of employment and she had talked Alicia into applying with her. She had started taking business courses and was loving them, Leesh was taking courses to go into medical transcription and already had a lead on a job when she received her certificates in six months.

He sent up a prayer of thanks that the scholarship offer he'd arranged with the college had worked and he'd been able to help Connie and Leesh improve their lives (and two of the other strippers that worked with Connie and had gotten flyers put on their cars). After all he'd been blessed with enough money from his book sales and speaking engagements to help a few people less fortunate than himself.

Now, he just needed to figure out how to get Georgie into an anger management course. Once that young man managed to get a handle on his temper, he had a great future in construction. Kid was good with his hands, just too volatile to keep on the job site. Connie said he was doing better now that they'd begun to put the past behind them.

Rossi gave a second thanks for his new "kids" who had helped bring peace to those youngsters and to himself.

Twenty minutes later he wound up the conversation and climbed into his SUV to head over to Hotch's for lunch. He'd heard a lot about Hotch's "little" brother over the years and looked forward to meeting him. Not to mention the little fact that apparently the kid was an excellent cook, putting even Gideon to shame.

12:00 noon

Steven Gideon watched as his father practically danced (and occasionally actually danced) around his kitchen. He had no idea what had led to his father's sudden retirement a year ago, but he was thankful for the time it had given them to be together. He'd shown up for every holiday and every birthday, usually with a trunk full of groceries, claiming a need to cook for his grandchildren. Oh, and a pile of souvenirs from his travels around the United Stated and Canada.

He thanked the Lord that his father had survived his years in the FBI and come out intact. He finally had the opportunity to develop the relationship he had wished for when he was younger.

Jason Gideon smiled gently as Steven's wife sneaked a hand in to steal a bite of the turkey he was carving. Steven and the girls were setting the table behind them. He'd found a peace in the last year that he'd never felt before. Yes, he had regrets about the people he'd left behind, but he found (to his great surprise) that he didn't miss the job at all.

Retirement suited him in a way he'd never expected, he'd traveled extensively for work, but he'd never had the time to enjoy any of that travel, now he had nothing but time. He'd started journaling his bird watching efforts and had even published a couple articles on the subject.

He didn't know about happy yet, his losses still pained him, but he was certainly content. He thanked whoever was watching over him for giving him this second life.

1:00 p.m. 

Brooklyn, New York, Elle finished scraping the squash from the pan into a serving dish and set it on the table. Moving back home was probably the best thing she could have done for herself after her meltdown. After spending a month being sullen and moping around her mother's apartment, she had finally decided to take Hotch's advice and get some professional help. She'd come to realize he was right, talking about her problems helped.

Of course there were still a few things that she could only speak about with her therapist, thank God for that patient/doctor confidentiality laws, but once she'd trusted her enough it had really helped to understand why she had done what she had done, and then to forgive herself for her actions.

She smiled as one of her nieces ran through the kitchen only to be chased back out with instructions to watch the parade with Daddy. She loved being able to be with her family like this. She had really missed her family while she was working for the FBI; holiday dinners, talking over coffee and donuts, impromptu shopping trips.

In addition to her new closeness with her family she was much happier now that she'd gotten her private investigator's license, the pay wasn't nearly as good, but she was able to get more personally involved with her clients and follow up on them when the cases were over. Something she had never been able to do as an agent. She also had time to donate a couple evenings a week to teaching self-defense classes at the Y.

She smiled as she looked into the living room, where her new boyfriend, Tim, sat watching the parade with her nieces and her brother-in-laws. He was her co-instructor at the Y and it was quite possible that (aside from Reid) she'd never met a gentler soul in her life.

She silently thanked God the she had been able to create such a wonderful new life for herself after she had so nearly destroyed herself.


	23. Dinos

AN: I think this is the shortest stand-alone I've ever written.

DINOS

Reid opened his desk drawer and smiled. Despite - or maybe because of - all the teasing, pranks, arguments and headslaps he had the best big brother in the world. He pulled the two-inch brontosaurus from his drawer and positioned it carefully next to the stegosaurus and Tyrannosaurus Rex cavorting by the glass partition on his desk. He'd have a nice little herd soon.


	24. Socks

SOCKS

It had really seemed like an excellent idea, even Hotch had thought so. When the local authorities had explained that the victim's small black cat (with four white paws) would be brought to the local animal shelter – which they also said was horribly overcrowded – Reid had been unable to bear to let it happen. So, Socrates (a/k/a Socks to the rest of the team) had flown back from Los Angeles with them and was now happily ensconced in Reid's apartment.

Garcia had brought over a six-foot cat tree, one that actually looked like a real tree with carpet-covered platforms. Morgan had supplied a covered litter box, what looked like a year's supply of food and one of those autofeeding and watering things. JJ and Emily had brought over a basket filled with various cat toys. Rossi had gone practical and arranged to get Socks into his vet and paid for her to be spayed, and the name and number of a reliable pet-care service he used when they were out of town.

Oddly enough it was Hotch's contribution that had caused his injury. It was a simple toy, designed to keep the small animal entertained during the daytime, a six-inch round ball with colored bells inside. A small six-inch ball that he hadn't seen when he walked into his apartment after the hellacious case in Canada.

So, it turned out that black cats really were lucky for their owners (and their owners families). After all, if he hadn't dislocated his knee tripping on the toy, he wouldn't have called Morgan to take him to the hospital, Morgan wouldn't have called Hotch on his way over and not gotten an answer. Morgan wouldn't have then called Rossi to check on Hotch. Rossi wouldn't have gone to Hotch's new apartment on his way home to check on Hotch. Rossi wouldn't have heard the gunshot as he approached Hotch's front door. And Rossi wouldn't have busted down Hotch's door, shot the Reaper, called an ambulance, administered first aid and saved Hotch's life.

Reid laid his crutches on the floor next to the couch and pulled the small animal into his lap. "Thank you, Socrates."

Author's note: I have a summer challenge (first brought up by the lovely BABruin of DiscusstheGube).

I challenge all writers and nonwriters to create a fic explaining how Reid wound up on crutches.

Did he trip over his cat? Did an UnSub shove him down a stairwell? Evidence of why the team never lets him drive?

It can be as long or short as you desire, from a few words to a full multichapter work of art. They can be posted anywhere on the Net, LJ, here, any site you choose.

Then, spread the fun: Copy this challenge at the bottom of your fic and let's see if we can cause a fanfic explosion.

P.S.: For anyone waiting on an update on A Taste of Family, the fic is not forgotten, I've got a wicked case of writer's block on the next chapter – which is now on the computer my brother is trying to repair for me. I promise to finish it as soon as I get my computer back. I'm actually oping a few one-shots will get the creative juices flowing again.


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